ON THE ROAD TO PARIS.
On the 21st of January, 1535, a few weeks after the seizure of Hena
Lebrenn and Ernest Rennepont at the cottage of Master Robert Estienne,
two riders crossed the Charenton bridge on their way to Paris. Master
Raimbaud, the armorer, one of the riders, was a man in robust middle
age, and of an open and resolute countenance. His headgear consisted of
a broad-brimmed felt hat; he wore a coat of mail over his jacket, and
large traveling boots on his sturdy legs. A cutlass hung from his side,
his holsters were furnished with pistols, and his wide brown coat flowed
down over the crupper of his horse. The other rider, Odelin Lebrenn, was
then just fifteen. His candid and pleasant features, slightly browned by
the sun of Italy, recalled those of his sister Hena. A black bonnet,
ornamented with a little red feather and placed slightly aslant over the
lad's blonde hair, left wholly exposed the smiling face that radiated
with increasing joy in the measure that he approached the end of his
journey. The apprentice and his master were at that moment ascending a
steep hill, at a steady pace. Despite the steepness of the hill,
however, Odelin's mount frequently broke out into a trot,
surreptitiously urged thereto by the spurs of the boy. Master Raimbaud
smiled under his brown beard, as he guessed the cause of Odelin's
impatience, while he himself kept his own horse well in hand. He had
just once more baffled the innocent manoeuvre of his apprentice, who had
run ahead:
"Well, Odelin," he called after him, "there is your horse again breaking
out into a trot. One would think he'd got the devil at his heels."
"Master Raimbaud, it is not my fault," answered the youngster, somewhat
abashed, and reining in, to his regret. "My horse forces my hand. It
must be the flies that torment him. That's why he runs ahead."
"God's head! Flies in the month of January, my boy!" replied the armorer
jovially, as he came abreast of his apprentice. "You must be thinking
yourself still in summer on the roads of Milan."
"Well, I shall not insist on my fib, Master Raimbaud. I must admit to
you that the nearer we approach Paris, where my mother, and father, and
sister, and brother, and my good uncle Josephin are expecting me, I feel
such a thrill of joy, that without my knowledge my spurs approach the
flanks of my horse--and then the beast starts trotting."
"I can understand your impatience, my lad. It does credit to your heart.
But endeavor to control yourself a little. We have ridden a long stretch
to-day. We should not wind our horses. Certain of the joy in wait for
you, what is the use of running after it?"
"That's true, Master Raimbaud," replied Odelin, red with emotion and
his eyes dimmed with moisture. "Within two hours I shall see again all
those whom I love; I shall embrace them--"
"And I shall add to their happiness at seeing you back again, by telling
them how well pleased I have been with you during our trip."
"How could I otherwise than endeavor to please you, Master Raimbaud? If
I were your own son you could not treat me with greater tenderness, or
more attention."
"For the simple reason that a worthy son would not behave differently
toward me than yourself, my little Odelin. Such are the fruits of the
bringing up you have received from your worthy father and your excellent
mother."
"Oh, Master Raimbaud, when I think of the caresses that await me!"
"Look to your spurs, my lad! Look to your spurs. We shall now soon be at
the top of the hill. Stop your horse a moment. One of the straps of your
valise is loose. Fasten it."
"Oh, heaven! If I had lost my valise!" cried the apprentice, reddening
at the thought. Stopping his horse, he turned in his saddle, and
hastened to fasten the strap, enumerating with childish glee as he did
so the treasures contained in the bag: "Had I lost you, my dear valise,
it would then have been adieu to my little presents--the brooch of
chiseled silver for my mother, the Quintus Curtius printed in Bologna
for my good and learned father, a vermillion pin for my handsome sister
Hena, a bronze writing case, with all its accessories, for the studious
Herve--"
"And that famous flask of Imola wine for your uncle, the Franc-Taupin,
who will be delighted to taste the Italian nectar."
"That's not all, Master Raimbaud; I also have for my uncle a fine steel
Milanese dagger, which I forged myself at the workshop of Master Gaspard
during my idle moments. Oh, dear uncle, I would fear to offend him if I
brought him a wine flask only."
"Come, the strap is now fast. Let us resume our way. Once we reach the
top of the hill we shall start on a trot, my impatient fellow. I said a
trot, did you understand? No galloping! We must husband the strength of
our mounts."
Master Raimbaud and his apprentice resumed their route at a rapid pace.
Already they descried in the distant horizon the numerous spires and
belfries of the churches of Paris. As they were passing before an
isolated house on the road, the battered sign of which announced it as a
roadside tavern, they heard someone loudly call out to them:
"Master Raimbaud! Odelin! Halloa! Halloa, there!"
"It is my uncle!" cried the lad, startled, and quickly making his horse
rear on its haunches. "I recognize my uncle's voice!"
"He must have come out to meet us, apprized by my wife of the day of our
arrival," explained the armorer, also reining in. But looking to the
right, and to the left, and all around him, he added, not a little
surprised: "Where the devil may the Franc-Taupin be niched? He is not
in heaven, I suppose, although the voice seemed to come from above."
No less astonished than his patron, Odelin also looked in all
directions, when he saw, emerging from the tavern which they had ridden
by, a tall Capuchin friar with his face almost wholly concealed in the
cowl of his frock, and a chaplet of large beads girdling his waist. The
monk moved with long strides towards the travelers.
"Good God!" cried Odelin as the cowl of the monk who ran towards them
was blown back by the wind. "My uncle Josephin has become a Capuchin
friar!"
"God's head!" exclaimed the armorer, sharing the astonishment of his
apprentice. "May the fire of my forge consume me if I ever expected to
see such a metamorphosis! The Franc-Taupin a Capuchin friar!"
Seeing that his nephew, upon whom he kept his eyes fixed, was about to
jump down to the ground, the soldier of fortune checked him with a wave
of his hand, saying:
"Remain on horseback, my boy!"
And addressing the armorer:
"Master Raimbaud, let us go into the tavern. It is a safe place, and
there is a stable for your horses. We have matters to talk over."
"Halt here? No, indeed! I am in too great a hurry to embrace my wife. A
few hours later, if you should feel so disposed, we may empty a pot of
wine at my own house, my gay friend!" answered the armorer,
misunderstanding the Franc-Taupin's invitation. "Everything in its
season. Business before pleasure. I wish to be back in Paris before
night. So, then, good-bye!"
"Master Raimbaud, you can not enter Paris before dark and without great
precautions," said the Franc-Taupin in a low voice. "Follow me into the
tavern. You can stable your horses there, and I shall impart to you
grave tidings, the saddest that you can imagine--but not a word of that
to Odelin."
"Be it so! Let us go in," answered Master Raimbaud, turning his horse's
head, while evil presentiments assailed him. Ignorant of the secret
information whispered by his uncle to the armorer, the apprentice
followed the two into the tavern, asking himself with increasing
wonderment how the Franc-Taupin could have become a friar.
Josephin pulled down over his face the cowl of his frock and led the two
travelers to the yard of the tavern, from which access was had to the
stable.
"Unsaddle the horses, my friend," said Master Raimbaud to Odelin, "and
give them feed. Join us in the tavern when that is attended to."
"What, Master Raimbaud, are we to stay here when we are barely two hours
from Paris!"
"Mind the horses, my boy. I shall tell you afterwards why we must stop
here."
Obedient to his master's orders, Odelin unwillingly alighted and threw
himself upon his uncle's neck, saying with a voice broken with
affectionate remembrances: "My dear uncle! How are mother, father,
sister and brother? All well at home?"
Without answering his nephew, Josephin held him in a close embrace. The
boy felt upon his cheeks the tears that flowed from his uncle's eyes.
"Uncle, you weep!"
"With joy, my boy!" answered Josephin in a broken voice. "It is out of
joy to see you after such a long absence." And disengaging himself from
his nephew's arms, he proceeded: "You will join us presently. Ask the
tavern-keeper the way to the room in the attic facing the road." Then
turning to the armorer: "Come, Master Raimbaud, come!"
Overjoyed at having met his uncle, and consoling himself with the
thought that, after all, the hour of seeing his family, so impatiently
awaited, might not be greatly delayed, Odelin busied himself with
unsaddling the horses and furnishing them with provender. The
goodhearted boy, thereupon, in his hurry to offer the Franc-Taupin the
little presents he brought him from Italy, rummaged in his valise for
the flask of Imola wine and the dagger that he himself forged for him.
The boy was anxious to show his affection to Josephin even before he was
back home in Paris.
The Franc-Taupin led Master Raimbaud to a room on the top floor of the
tavern, facing the highroad. There he informed the armorer of the death
of Bridget and of the capture of Hena and Ernest Rennepont, who were
since held imprisoned as relapsed sinners; and, finally, of Christian's
departure for La Rochelle. The Franc-Taupin's hopes had been verified.
The presence of his brother-in-law at Robert Estienne's country house
was not suspected. The last ineffectual searches, undertaken by the
archers at the house, sheltered him against any further visitations. The
influence of Princess Marguerite, and the luster shed upon the reign of
Francis I by the marvelous productions of Robert Estienne's printing
establishment, combined to save the printing master once more--alas, it
was to be the last time!--from the hatred of his enemies. Although a
relapsed monk and nun were found on his premises, he was set free and
left unmolested. Accordingly, Christian awaited in safety the time when,
healed of his wound by the skill of the surgeon Ambroise Pare, who
visited him secretly, he could take his departure for La Rochelle. The
casket containing the narratives of the Lebrenn family had been
concealed by the Franc-Taupin with admirable foresight among the brush
of the garden, on the very night after the archers seized Hena. As soon
as Christian was able to undertake the journey, he assumed the disguise
of a traveling seller of chaplets and relics. The religious traffic was
essential to his safety along the road. Carrying on his back his pack of
religious trumpery, among which his family legends were secreted, he
tramped to La Rochelle, where he arrived safe and sound.
Dumbfounded by these revelations, seeing the deep interest he harbored
for Christian and his family, Master Raimbaud exclaimed in distraction:
"Poor Odelin! What an unexpected blow for the unhappy boy! Only a short
time ago the mere thought of seeing his family threw him into
transports of joy--and now he is to learn--Oh, it is horrible!"
"Horrible!" echoed the Franc-Taupin in sinister accents. "But blood
calls for blood! A soldier of adventure since my fifteenth year, already
I had become a wolf--now I shall be a tiger! The reformers will draw the
sword to avenge their martyrs--no quarter for the assassin priests! By
my sister's death!" proceeded the Franc-Taupin, livid with rage and
raising his clenched fist heavenward, "call me a wooden-bowled cripple
and a lame poltroon if I do not tear up the papists with my very teeth!
But," restraining himself, he resumed: "Let us consider what now most
presses. Master Raimbaud, here is a letter from your wife. I know its
contents. She conjures you not to go back to your establishment, and to
take shelter in the place of safety that she mentions. She will join you
there in order to consider with you what is to be done. She is a
cautious and resolute woman."
"My good Martha alarms herself unnecessarily," observed the armorer
after reading his wife's letter. "However violent the persecution of the
reformers may be, and although a heretic myself, I have nothing to fear.
I work for several seigneurs of the court; I have fashioned their finest
arms; they will not refuse me their protection."
"Master Raimbaud, do the papist court jays, with the feathers of
peacocks and the talons of vultures, owe you any money?"
"Indeed, they owe me large sums."
"They will burn you to cancel their debts. Make no doubt of that."
"God's head! You may be telling the truth, Josephin! I must consider
that."
"Well, then, return secretly to Paris; remain in hiding a few days,
gather all your valuables--and flee to La Rochelle. Place yourself
beyond the reach of the tigers' claws. It is the best thing you can do."
"But what of the poor lad--Odelin?"
"My nephew and myself will accompany you to La Rochelle. I scent battle
and carnage in that quarter. When I say 'battle' I see things red. Here
is to the red! I love wine--I shall drink blood! Oh, blood! You shall
flow streaming and warm from the breast of the papists, like wine from
the bung-hole of a cask. By my sister's death! Oh, for the day when I
shall avenge Bridget--Hena--my two poor martyrs!"
After a moment's silent reflection the armorer blurted out: "My head
reels under so many afflictions. I forgot to ask you where is
Christian's daughter, Hena?"
"She is a prisoner at the Chatelet. Her trial is on," and burying his
face in his hands the soldier of adventure added in heartrending tones:
"She will be pronounced guilty, sentenced, and brought to the
stake--burned alive as a relapsed nun."
"Great God, is such barbarity possible?"
"Hena!" Josephin proceeded without answering Master Raimbaud, "you sweet
and dear creature! Image of my sister! Poor child whom, when a baby, I
rocked upon my knees--you shall be avenged--"
The Franc-Taupin could not utter another word; he broke down into sobs.
"Unhappy Christian!" exclaimed Master Raimbaud pitifully. "What must not
have been his agony!"
"We had to fabricate a tale before we could induce him to depart,"
answered the Franc-Taupin, wiping his burning eye with the back of his
hand. "Monsieur Estienne assured Christian that the Princess had
obtained grace for Hena's life, but under the condition that she was to
spend her existence in some convent far away from Paris. Christian then
decided to flee and preserve himself for his only remaining child,
Odelin. He is now safe at La Rochelle."
"And Herve? You have not mentioned him."
"By my sister's death! Do not mention the name of that monster. I could
strangle him with my own hands, child of Bridget's though he be. He has
joined the Cordelier monks. He has already preached in their church upon
the necessity of exterminating the heretics. The Queen was present on
the occasion. They extol the eloquence of the young monk. Death and
damnation!" Shivering with horror and disgust, the Franc-Taupin
proceeded after a pause: "Never again mention the monster's name in my
hearing! May hell swallow him up!"
Uninformed upon the events that led to Herve's taking orders, the
armorer was no less stupefied at the news of the young man's having
become a monk than at hearing Josephin give vent to his execration of
his sister's son. Nevertheless, unwilling to aggravate the sorrow of
the Franc-Taupin, he refrained from dwelling upon a subject that so
greatly inflamed him.
"The tidings you have brought me have so upset me that it did not yet
occur to me to ask you the reason for your assuming the garb you wear--"
"The reason is quite simple," Josephin broke in; "I was described to the
spies of the Criminal Lieutenant; and probably informed against by the
two bandits who helped me in the abduction of my niece from the convent.
My size and the plaster over my eye make me an easy mark for capture. I
took the robe of a Capuchin mendicant because it best enables me to
conceal my face. These friars have no convent of their own in the city.
A few of them straggle into Paris from time to time from their hives at
Chartres or Bourges, to pick up crumbs. If any one of them, coming from
Chartres, addresses me, I would say: 'I am from Bourges.' To those from
Bourges I shall say: 'I am from Chartres.' I have been established in
this tavern for the last three days. I told the inn-keeper that I
expected a stranger upon business of my Order. I pay for my lodging
regularly every morning. The inn-keeper has not manifested any curiosity
about me. Thus, in short, runs the explanation of my disguise. For your
own guidance, Master Raimbaud, I shall add that the exasperation of the
Catholics against the reformers is just now at white heat. They even
talk of slaughtering the Huguenots in mass."
"What are these threats, this increased hatred, attributed to?"
"To certain printed placards clandestinely posted on the walls of Paris
by the activity of Christian's friend Justin. The placards scourge the
priests, the monks and all other papists. A large number of heretics
have already been arrested and sentenced to the stake; others have been
massacred by the brutified populace--that _huge she-greyhound, with
bloody craw_, as the monks say when they refer to the poor and ignorant
masses. You may judge from that what dangers you would run in Paris,
were you to attempt to enter the city openly, you who are pointed at as
a heretic. My nephew Odelin runs the same danger. They are ready to
seize him the moment he steps into your house."
"What! They want to arrest a child?"
"Children become men with time--and they fear men. I should have stabbed
you to death, Ignatius Loyola, when I was your page! It is you who order
the father and mother to be burned as heretics, and the three children
to be clapped into cloisters to the end of uprooting a stock that you
pronounce accursed! But the father has escaped death, and I shall know
how to thwart your search after his last child! After that--battle and
carnage! By my sister's death--I shall cause the blood of papists to run
like water. Time presses--let us make haste. You can not return home,
Master Raimbaud, any more than my nephew could safely step into your
house. This is the plan I submitted to Monsieur Robert Estienne, and
which he approves: I have provided myself with a second Capuchin frock
for Odelin. He and I will go to Paris, our bags on our backs, without
awakening suspicion. We shall turn in at a friend's on St. Honore
Street, where Monsieur Estienne will call to see us. It is a safe place.
Monsieur Estienne has taken upon himself the painful task of informing
Odelin concerning the misfortunes that have smitten his family.
To-morrow evening we leave Paris again in our disguise, and I shall take
my nephew to his father at La Rochelle. Should you also decide to change
your residence, and to move to La Rochelle with your wife, we may agree
upon some town near Paris in which Odelin and myself could join you.
This is for you to consider and decide."
"Your plan seems wise to me, Josephin; I shall probably decide to follow
it. From what is happening in Paris, I perceive I would not be safe
there."
"Well, then, Master Raimbaud, leave the horses behind in the tavern. One
of your employees may come to-morrow for them. Do not enter Paris until
after dark and keep your head well hooded. Proceed straight to the house
that your wife mentions to you--"
The Franc-Taupin was interrupted in the directions he was issuing by the
entrance of his nephew, holding in one hand a flask wrapped in fine
paper, and in the other a steel dagger. He held out the two objects with
a radiant face to Josephin, saying with exquisite kindness:
"Dear uncle, I forged this dagger for you out of the best steel there
was in Milan; I bring you this flask of old Imola wine for you to
celebrate this happy day and to drink to the speedy reunion of our
family."
So poignant was the contrast between the lad's words and the sad reality
of which he still remained in ignorance, that Master Raimbaud and the
Franc-Taupin exchanged sad glances and remained silent. Josephin's cowl,
now resting wholly upon his shoulders, left his face entirely exposed.
So visible were the traces of sorrow and mental suffering that face
revealed, that Odelin, now seeing his uncle for the first time wholly
uncovered, drew back a step. Immediately he also noticed the profound
sadness of Master Raimbaud. Alarmed at the silence of the two, Odelin
felt oppressed. He felt a vague presentiment of some great misfortune.
Touched by the token of his nephew's affection, the Franc-Taupin took
the flask and the dagger, examined the weapon, placed it in his belt
under his frock, and muttered to himself:
"Ah, a good blade. You are given to me by the son--you shall wreak
vengeance for the mother, the father--and their daughter!" He then
placed the flask down beside him, and embracing Odelin, added aloud:
"Thank you, my dear boy. The dagger will be useful to me. As to the
flask--tastes change--I drink wine no more. Now to business. I have a
note for you from your father. Post yourself upon its contents."
"But am I not to see father shortly, at home?"
Not a little astonished, Odelin read:
My dearly beloved Odelin.--Do everything your uncle Josephin may
tell you, without asking any questions. Do not feel alarmed. I
shall soon embrace you. I love you as ever, from the bottom of my
heart.
Your father,
CHRISTIAN.
Despite his vague and increasing uneasiness, Odelin felt quieted by
those words of his father's: "I shall soon embrace you." He said to the
Franc-Taupin:
"What must I do, uncle?"
The soldier of fortune took a bundle from his bed, drew out of it a
Capuchin's robe, and said to his nephew:
"The first thing to do, my boy, is to put this robe over your clothes,
and when we are out of doors you will take care to keep the cowl over
your face, as I am doing now."
"I?" asked Odelin, startled. "Am I to put on such a costume?" But
recalling the instructions of his father, he added: "I forgot that
father wrote me to obey you, uncle, without asking any reasons for your
orders. I shall put on the robe, immediately."
"Fine," said Master Raimbaud, forcing a smile on his lips in order to
quiet Odelin. "There you are, from an armorer's apprentice transformed
into a Capuchin's apprentice! The change does not seem to be to your
taste, my little friend."
"It is my father's will, Master Raimbaud. I but obey. Truth to say,
however, I do not fancy a monk's garb."
"I am a better papist than yourself, little Odelin," put in the
Franc-Taupin ironically, as he helped his nephew to don his disguise; "I
love the monks so well that I hope soon to start bestowing upon every
one of them whom I may meet--the red skullcap of a Cardinal! Now,
shoulder that wallet and bend your back; and then with a dragging leg,
and neck stuck out, we shall imitate as well as we can the gait of that
Roman Catholic and Apostolic vermin."
"How comical I shall look to mother and to my sister Hena when they see
me arrive thus accoutred!" observed Odelin with a smile. "Dear uncle, if
father is the only one informed of my disguise, I shall knock at the
door of our house, and beg for an alms with a nasal twang. Just think of
their surprise when I throw up my cowl! _Corpo di Bacco!_ as the
Italians say, we shall laugh till the tears run down our cheeks."
"Your idea is not bad," answered the Franc-Taupin, embarrassed. "But it
is getting late. Bid Master Raimbaud good-bye, and let us depart."
"Is Master Raimbaud to stay here?"
"Yes, my boy--"
"Who is to see to the horses?"
"Do not trouble yourself about that; they will have their provender."
The armorer embraced his apprentice, whom he loved almost as an own son
and bade him be of good cheer.
"Your adieu sounds sad, Master Raimbaud, and as if our separation were
to be a long one," observed Odelin with moistening eyes. "Uncle! Oh,
uncle! My alarm returns, it grows upon me. I can not account for the
sadness of Master Raimbaud, and I do not understand the mystery of this
disguise to enter Paris--"
"My dear boy, remember your father's instructions," said Josephin. "Put
me no questions to which I can not now make an answer."
The boy resigned himself with a sigh. Shouldering his wallet, he
descended after his uncle. As the latter heard the clink of Odelin's
spurs on the stairs, he turned to him:
"I forgot to make you take off your spurs. Remove them while I go and
pay the inn-keeper. Wait for me outside at the cross road."
"Uncle, may I put into my wallet a few little presents that I bring from
Italy for the family?"
"Do about that as you please," answered the Franc-Taupin.
While Odelin walked into the stable to remove his spurs and take out of
his valise the articles which he wished to take with him, Josephin went
to settle his score with the inn-keeper. The latter, who hugged his
taproom, did not see young Odelin come down in his Capuchin vestments.
To the Franc-Taupin he said: "You leave us early, my reverend. I hoped
you would pay us a longer visit. But I can understand that you are in a
hurry to reach Paris to witness the great ceremony."
"What ceremony have you in mind, my good man?"
"A traveler informed us that the bells and the chimes have been ringing
in Paris with might and main since morning. All the houses along the
road that the superb procession is to traverse were decorated with
tapestry by orders of the Criminal Lieutenant, who also ordered that a
lighted wax candle be held at every window. He also told us that the
King, the Queen and all the Princes, as well as a crowd of great
seigneurs and high dignitaries were to assist at the ceremony--the most
magnificent that will yet have been seen--"
"Good evening, my host," said Josephin, anxious to put an end to the
conversation and join his nephew who waited for him outside. To himself
he was saying:
"What can the ceremony be that the inn-keeper has been informed about?
After all, the event can only be favorable to us. The crowds that the
streets will be filled with will facilitate our passage, and help us to
reach unperceived the retreat designated by Monsieur Estienne."
The Franc-Taupin and his nephew walked rapidly towards Paris where they
arrived as the sun was dipping the western horizon.