When Jean Charost reached the bottom of the great stair-case, he found
every thing below in a state of great hurry and confusion. A number of
persons were passing out, and stately forms, and burnished arms, and
waving plumes were seen flowing along through the corridor like a
stream. At the foot of the stairs stood Tanneguy du Châtel in complete
arms, with his right foot raised upon the first step, his knee
supporting the pommel of a small battle-ax, and his hand resting on
the blade of the weapon. His beaver was up, and the expression of his
countenance eager and impatient. "Quick, quick, De Brecy," he said.
"The prince has gone on. We must catch him before the interview
begins, if you would speed in your suit."
"I am ready," said the young man; and on they hastened, somewhat
impeded by the number of attendants and noblemen of the dauphin's
court, who were already following him toward the bridge over the
Seine. They issued out of the abbey, at length, and then made greater
progress in the open streets. But, nevertheless, they did not overtake
the prince and the group that immediately surrounded him, till he had
reached the foot of the high arched bridge on which the barriers were
erected. In the open space on either side of the road, between the
houses and the water, were assembled a strong body of horse and two
large companies of archers. A herald and a marshal kept the way clear
for the prince and his train, and no one appeared upon the bridge
itself but some men, stationed at each of the four barriers, to open
and close the gates as the several parties passed in. On the opposite
side of the river towered up the old castle, with its outworks coming
quite down to the bridge; but nobody appeared there except a few
soldiers on the walls.
"Here is Monsieur De Brecy, royal sir," said Tanneguy du Châtel,
approaching the dauphin--a tall and graceful, but slightly-formed
young man--"the gentleman who has been a prisoner! since Azincourt, of
whom I spoke to your highness, as did also, I hear, your royal lady,
and Mademoiselle De St. Geran."
The dauphin turned partly round, and gave one glance at Jean Charost,
saying, "Bring him in with you, Du Châtel. We will speak with him
within the barriers; for, by all I see, my fair cousin of Burgundy
intends to keep me waiting."
Thus saying, the dauphin passed on with two or three other persons,
the barrier being raised to give him admission. The man in charge of
the gate seemed to hesitate at the sight of Jean Charost in his monk's
gown; but Du Châtel exclaimed, sharply, "The Baron De Brecy. Let him
pass. I am his warrant."
The second barrier was passed in the same way as the first by the
dauphin and his immediate followers; but a number of the train
remained between the two barricades, according to orders apparently
previously given. The keeper of the second barrier made greater
difficulty than the other to let Jean Charost pass and it was not till
the dauphin himself turned his head, and said, "Let him enter," that
the rail was raised.
Across the centre of the bridge a single light rail was drawn, and in
the space between that and the second barrier was placed a little
pavilion, decorated with crimson silk, and furnished with a chair for
the use of the prince. He advanced at once toward it and seated
himself, and those who accompanied him, in number about two or three
and twenty, gathered round, and an eager conversation seemed to take
place among them. Tanneguy du Châtel mingled with the rest,
approaching close to the side of the dauphin; but Jean Charost
remained on the verge of the group, unnoticed, and apparently
forgotten.
Some one was heard to say something regarding the insolence of keeping
his highness waiting; and then the voice of Du Châtel answered, in a
frank tone, "Not insolence, perhaps--suspicion and fear, very likely."
"We wish him no ill," said the dauphin. "Let him keep his promises,
and we will embrace him with all friendship. Perhaps he does not know
that we are here. Go and summon him, Du Châtel."
Without reply, Tanneguy hastened away, vaulted, armed as he was, over
the rail which crossed the bridge at the centre, and passed through
the two other barriers on the side of the castle, disappearing under
the archway of the gate.
The eyes of most persons present were turned in that direction; but
the dauphin looked round, with a somewhat listless air, as if for some
object with which to fill up the time, and, seeing Jean Charost, he
beckoned him up.
"I am glad to see you, Monsieur De Brecy," he said. "They tell me you
have a letter for me from my cousin of Orleans. Were you not, if I
remember right, the secretary of his father, my uncle, who was so
basely murdered?"
"I was, your highness," replied Jean Charost. "Permit me to present
you the young duke's letter."
The dauphin took it, but did not break the seal, merely saying, "I
grieve deeply for my good cousin's long imprisonment, and if we can
bring this stout-hearted Duke of Burgundy to any thing like reasonable
terms of accommodation, I doubt not that we shall be able to conclude
an honorable peace with England, in which case his liberation shall be
stipulated, and yours, too, Monsieur De Brecy; for I am told you not
only served well, and suffered much at Azincourt, but that your noble
devotion to my murdered uncle had well-nigh cost your own life. Rest
assured you shall be remembered."
Jean Charost judged rightly whence the prince's information came; and
he was expressing his thanks, when some of those who were standing
round exclaimed, "The duke is coming, your highness!"
"Somewhat late," said the young prince, with a frown; "but better that
than not come at all. Well go, some of you, and do him honor."
Thus saying, he rose and advanced slowly to the rail across the
bridge, on which he leaned, crossing his arms upon his chest.
In the meanwhile, a small party, consisting of ten or twelve people,
were seen approaching from the gate of the castle. At the first
barrier they halted, and a short consultation seemed to take place.
Before it was finished they were joined by some six or seven noblemen
who had left the group about the dauphin by his command. They then
moved forward again; but some way in advance of them came Tanneguy du
Châtel, with a quick step and a flushed countenance.
"This man is very bold, my prince," he said, in a low tone. "God send
his looks and words may be more humble here, for I know not how any of
us will bear it."
"Go back--go back, and bring him on," said the dauphin. "He shall hear
some truths he may not lately have heard. Be you calm, Du Châtel, and
leave me to deal with him. I will not spare."
Eagerness to see all the strange scene that was passing had led Jean
Charost almost close to the rail by the time that Tanneguy du Châtel
turned, and advanced once more to meet the Duke of Burgundy. That
prince was now easily to be distinguished a little in advance of his
company, and Jean Charost remarked that he had greatly changed since
he last saw him. Though still a strong and active man, he looked much
older, and deep lines of anxious thought were traced upon his cheek
and brow. At first his eyes were fixed upon the dauphin, who continued
to lean against the rail without the slightest movement; but as he
came on, the duke looked to the right and left, running his eyes over
the prince's attendants, and when about ten steps from the rail, they
rested firmly and inquiringly on the face of Jean Charost. For a
moment the sight seemed to puzzle him; but then a look of recognition
came over his countenance; and the next instant he turned deadly pale.
A sort of hesitation was seen in his step and air; but he recovered
himself at once, advanced straight to the dauphin, and bent one knee
to the ground before him, throwing his heavy sword behind with his
left hand.
The dauphin moved not, spoke not, for a moment, but gazed upon the
duke with a heavy, frowning brow. "Well, cousin of Burgundy," he said,
at length, without asking him to rise, "you have come at length. I
thought you were going to violate your promise now, as in the other
cases."
"I have violated no promises, Charles of France," replied the duke, in
a tone equally sharp.
"Heaven is witness that you have," answered the dauphin. "Did you not
promise to cease from war? Did you not promise to withdraw your
garrisons from five cities where they still are?"
The duke's face flushed, his eyes sparkled, and his brow contracted.
What he replied, Jean Charost did not hear; but seeing a gentleman
close to the dauphin lay his hand upon his dagger, he caught him by
the arm, whispering, "Forbear! forbear!"
At the same moment, one of the dauphin's officers, who had gone to
meet the duke, took that prince by the arm, saying, "Rise, sir--rise.
You are too honorable to remain kneeling."
Whether the duke heard, or mistook him, I know not; but he turned
sharply toward him, with a fierce look, and, either moved by his
haughty spirit, or in order to rise more easily, he put his right hand
on the hilt of his sword; and Robert de Loire exclaimed, in a voice of
thunder, "Dare you put your hand on your sword in the presence of our
lord the dauphin!"
"It is time that this should cease!" cried Tanneguy du Châtel, his
whole countenance inflamed, and his eyes flashing fire; and at the
same moment he struck the duke a blow with the ax he carried in his
hand.
Burgundy started up, and partly drew his sword; but another blow beat
him on his knee again, and another cast him headlong to the ground. A
strong man, named Oliver de Laget and another sprang upon him, and
thrust a sword into his body. At the same moment, a scuffle occurred
at a little distance between one of the followers of the duke and some
of the dauphin's party, and Jean Charost saw a man fall; but all was
confused and indistinct. Horror, surprise, and a wild, grasping effort
of the mind to seize all the consequences to France, to England, to
himself, which might follow that dreadful act, stupefied and
confounded him. Every thing passed, as in a dream, with rapid
indistinctness, to be brought out vivid and strong by an after effort
of memory. That the duke was killed at the very feet of the dauphin,
was all that his mind had room for at the moment.
The next instant a voice exclaimed, "Look to the dauphin--look to the
dauphin!" and Jean Charost saw him staggering back from the rail as
pale as death, and with his eyes half closed.
It is not unlikely that many there present had contemplated as
possible some such event as that which had taken place, without any
definite purpose of effecting it, or taking any part therein. Popular
expectation has often something prophetic in it, and the warning
voice, which had rendered so many grave and thoughtful during the
whole course of that morning, must have been heard also by the actors
of the scene which had just passed. But one thing is certain, and the
whole history of the time leaves no doubt of the fact, that the
dauphin himself had neither any active share in his cousin's death,
nor any participation in a conspiracy to effect it. They bore him
back, fainting, to the little pavilion which had been raised for his
accommodation, and thence, after a time, led him, in profound silence,
to the abbey, while his followers secured a number of the Duke of
Burgundy's immediate attendants, and the soldiery, crowding on the
bridge, threatened the castle itself with assault.
Jean Charost retired from the scene with a sad heart. His hopes were
disappointed; his fate seemed sealed; but though he felt all this
bitterly, yet he felt still more despondency at the thought of his
unhappy country's fate. Personal rivalry, selfish ambition, greed of
power and of wealth, undisciplined valor, insubordinate obstinacy,
were all urging her on to the verge of a precipice from which a
miracle seemed necessary to save her. The feelings which filled his
breast at that moment were very like those expressed by the
contemporary historian when he wrote, "Only to hear recounted this
affair is so pitiful and lamentable that greater there can not be; and
especially the hearts of all noble men, and other true men, natives of
the kingdom of France, must be of great sadness and shame in beholding
those of such noble blood as of the _fleur de lis_, so near of
kindred, themselves destroy one another, and the same kingdom placed,
in consequence of the facts above mentioned, and others past and done
before, in the way and the danger of falling under a new lord and
altogether going to perdition."