As was natural, I meditated deeply and far into the night on the
difficulties of the task, entrusted to me. I saw that it fell into
two parts: the release of the lady, and her safe conduct to Blois, a
distance of sixty leagues. The release I thought it probable I could
effect single-handed, or with one companion only; but in the troubled
condition of the country at this time, more particularly on both sides
of the Loire, I scarcely saw how I could ensure a lady’s safety on the
road northwards unless I had with me at least five swords.
To get these together at a few hours’ notice promised to be no easy
task; although the presence of the Court of Navarre had filled St. Jean
with a crowd of adventurers. Yet the king’s command was urgent, and
at some sacrifice, even at some risk, must be obeyed. Pressed by these
considerations, I could think of no better man to begin with than
Fresnoy.
His character was bad, and he had long forfeited such claim as he had
ever possessed--I believe it was a misty one, on the distaff side--to
gentility. But the same cause which had rendered me destitute I mean
the death of the prince of Conde--had stripped him to the last rag; and
this, perhaps, inclining me to serve him, I was the more quick to see
his merits. I knew him already for a hardy, reckless man, very capable
of striking a shrewd blow. I gave him credit for being trusty, as long
as his duty jumped with his interest.
Accordingly, as soon as it was light, having fed and groomed the Cid,
which was always the first employment of my day, I set out in search of
Fresnoy, and was presently lucky enough to find him taking his morning
draught outside the ‘Three Pigeons,’ a little inn not far from the north
gate. It was more than a fortnight since I had set eyes on him, and the
lapse of time had worked so great a change for the worse in him that,
forgetting my own shabbiness, I looked at him askance, as doubting the
wisdom of enlisting one who bore so plainly the marks of poverty and
dissipation. His great face--he was a large man--had suffered recent
ill-usage, and was swollen and discoloured, one eye being as good as
closed. He was unshaven, his hair was ill-kempt, his doublet unfastened
at the throat, and torn and stained besides. Despite the cold--for the
morning was sharp and frosty, though free from wind--there were half a
dozen packmen drinking and squabbling before the inn, while the beasts
they drove quenched their thirst at the trough. But these men seemed
with one accord to leave him in possession of the bench at which he sat;
nor did I wonder much at this when I saw the morose and savage
glance which he shot at me as I approached. Whether he read my first
impressions in my face, or for some other reason felt distaste for my
company, I could not determine. But, undeterred by his behaviour, I sat
down beside him and called for wine.
He nodded sulkily in answer to my greeting, and cast a half-shamed,
half-angry look at me out of the corners of his eyes. ‘You need not look
at me as though I were a dog,’ he muttered presently. ‘You are not so
very spruce yourself, my friend. But I suppose you have grown proud
since you got that fat appointment at Court!’ And he laughed out loud,
so that I confess I was in two minds whether I should not force the jest
down his ugly throat.
However I restrained myself, though my cheeks burned. ‘You have heard
about it, then,’ I said, striving to speak indifferently.
‘Who has not?’ he said, laughing with his lips, though his eyes were far
from merry. ‘The Sieur de Marsac’s appointment! Ha! ha! Why, man--’
‘Enough of it now!’ I exclaimed. And I dare say I writhed on my seat.
‘As far as I am concerned the jest is a stale one, sir, and does not
amuse me.’
‘But it amuses me,’ he rejoined with a grin.
‘Let it be, nevertheless,’ I said; and I think he read a warning in my
eyes. ‘I have come to speak to you upon another matter.’
He did not refuse to listen, but threw one leg over the other, and
looking up at the inn-sign began to whistle in a rude, offensive manner.
Still, having an object in view, I controlled myself and continued. ‘It
is this, my friend: money is not very plentiful at present with either
of us.’
Before I could say any more he turned on me savagely, and with a loud
oath thrust his bloated face, flushed with passion, close to mine. ‘Now
look here, M. de Marsac!’ he cried violently, ‘once for all, it is no
good! I have not got the money, and I cannot pay it. I said a fortnight
ago, when you lent it, that you should have it this week. Well,’
slapping his hand on the bench, I have not got it, and it is no good
beginning upon me. You cannot have it, and that is flat!’
‘Damn the money!’ I cried.
‘What?’ he exclaimed, scarcely believing his ears.
‘Let the money be!’ I repeated fiercely. ‘Do you hear? I have not come
about it, I am here to offer you work--good, well-paid work--if you will
enlist with me and play me fair, Fresnoy.’
‘Play fair!’ he cried with an oath.
‘There, there,’ I said, ‘I am willing to let bygones be bygones if you
are. The point is, that I have an adventure on hand, and, wanting help,
can pay you for it.’
He looked at me cunningly, His eye travelling over each rent and darn
in my doublet. ‘I will help you fast enough,’ he said at last. ‘But I
should like to see the money first.’
‘You shall,’ I answered.
‘Then I am with you, my friend. Count on me till death!’ he cried,
rising and laying his hand in mine with a boisterous frankness which did
not deceive me into trusting him far. ‘And now, whose is the affair, and
what is it?’
‘The affair is mine,’ I said coldly. ‘It is to carry off a lady.’
He whistled and looked me over again, an impudent leer in his eyes. ‘A
lady?’ he exclaimed. ‘Umph! I could understand a young spark going in
for such--but that’s your affair. Who is it?’
‘That is my affair, too,’ I answered coolly, disgusted by the man’s
venality and meanness, and fully persuaded that I must trust him no
farther than the length of my sword. ‘All I want you to do, M. Fresnoy,’
I continued stiffly, ‘is to place yourself at my disposal and under my
orders for ten days. I will find you a horse and pay you--the enterprise
is a hazardous one, and I take that into account--two gold crowns a day,
and ten more if we succeed in reaching a place of safety.’
‘Such a place as--’
‘Never mind that,’ I replied. ‘The question is, do you accept?’
He looked down sullenly, and I could see he was greatly angered by my
determination to keep the matter to myself. ‘Am I to know no more than
that?’ he asked, digging the point of his scabbard again and again into
the ground.
‘No more,’ I answered firmly. ‘I am bent on a desperate attempt to mend
my fortunes before they fall as low as yours; and that is as much as
I mean to tell living man. If you are loth to risk your life with your
eyes shut, say so, and I will go to someone else.’
But he was not in a position, as I well knew, to refuse such an offer,
and presently he accepted it with a fresh semblance of heartiness. I
told him I should want four troopers to escort us, and these he offered
to procure, saying that he knew just the knaves to suit me. I bade him
hire two only, however, being too wise, to put myself altogether in his
hands; and then, having given him money to buy himself a horse--I made
it a term that the men should bring their own--and named a rendezvous
for the first hour after noon, I parted from him and went rather sadly
away.
For I began to see that the king had not underrated the dangers of an
enterprise on which none but desperate men and such as were down in the
world could be expected to embark. Seeing this, and also a thing which
followed clearly from it--that I should have as much to fear from my
own company as from the enemy--I looked forward with little hope to a
journey during every day and every hour of which I must bear a growing
weight of fear and responsibility.
It was too late to turn back, however, and I went about my preparations,
if with little cheerfulness, at least with steadfast purpose. I had
my sword ground and my pistols put in order by the cutler over whom I
lodged, and who performed this last office for me with the same goodwill
which had characterised, all his dealings with me. I sought out and
hired a couple of stout fellows whom I believed to be indifferently
honest, but who possessed the advantage of having horses; and besides
bought two led horses myself for mademoiselle and her woman. Such other
equipments as were absolutely necessary I purchased, reducing my stock
of money in this way to two hundred and ten crowns. How to dispose of
this sum so that it might be safe and yet at my command was a question
which greatly exercised me. In the end I had recourse to my friend
the cutler, who suggested hiding a hundred crowns of it in my cap, and
deftly contrived a place for the purpose. This, the cap being lined with
steel, was a matter of no great difficulty. A second hundred I sewed
up in the stuffing of my saddle, placing the remainder in my pouch for
present necessities.
A small rain was falling in the streets when, a little after noon, I
started with my two knaves behind me and made for the north gate. So
many were moving this way and the other that we passed unnoticed, and
might have done so had we numbered six swords instead of three. When we
reached the rendezvous, a mile beyond the gate, we found Fresnoy already
there, taking shelter in the lee of a big holly-tree. He had four
horsemen with him, and on our appearance rode forward to meet us, crying
heartily, ‘Welcome, M. le Capitaine!’
‘Welcome, certainly,’ I answered, pulling the Cid up sharply, and
holding off from him. ‘But who are these, M. Fresnoy?’ and I pointed
with my riding-cane to his four companions.
He tried to pass the matter off with a laugh. ‘Oh! these?’ he said.
‘That is soon explained. The Evangelists would not be divided, so I
brought them all--Matthew Mark, Luke, and John--thinking it likely
you might fail to secure your men. And I will warrant them for four as
gallant boys as you will ever find behind you!’
They were certainly four as arrant ruffians as I had ever seen before
me, and I saw I must not hesitate. ‘Two or none, M. Fresnoy,’ I said
firmly. ‘I gave you a commission for two, and two I will take--Matthew
and Mark, or Luke and John, as you please.’
‘’Tis a pity to break the party,’ said he, scowling.
‘If that be all,’ I retorted, ‘one of my men is called John. And we will
dub the other Luke, if that will mend the matter.’
‘The Prince of Conde,’ he muttered sullenly, ‘employed these men.’
‘The Prince of Conde employed some queer people sometimes, M. Fresnoy,’
I answered, looking him straight between the eyes, ‘as we all must. A
truce to this, if you please. We will take Matthew and Mark. The other
two be good enough to dismiss.’
He seemed to waver for a moment, as if he had a mind to disobey, but
in the end, thinking better of it, he bade the men return; and as I
complimented each of them with a piece of silver, they went off, after
some swearing, in tolerably good humour. Thereon Fresnoy was for taking
the road at once, but having no mind to be followed, I gave the word to
wait until the two were out of sight.
I think, as we sat our horses in the rain, the holly-bush not being
large enough to shelter us all, we were as sorry a band as ever set out
to rescue a lady; nor was it without pain that I looked round and saw
myself reduced to command such people. There was scarcely one whole
unpatched garment among us, and three of my squires had but a spur
apiece. To make up for this deficiency we mustered two black eyes,
Fresnoy’s included, and a broken nose. Matthew’s nag lacked a tail,
and, more remarkable still, its rider, as I presently discovered, was
stone-deaf; while Mark’s sword was innocent of a scabbard, and his
bridle was plain rope. One thing, indeed, I observed with pleasure. The
two men who had come with me looked askance at the two who had come with
Fresnoy, and these returned the stare with interest. On this division
and on the length of my sword I based all my hopes of safety and of
something more. On it I was about to stake, not my own life only--which
was no great thing, seeing what my prospects were--but the life and
honour of a woman, young, helpless, and as yet unknown to me.
Weighed down as I was by these considerations, I had to bear the
additional burden of hiding my fears and suspicions under a cheerful
demeanour. I made a short speech to my following, who one and all
responded by swearing to stand by me to the death. I then gave the word,
and we started, Fresnoy and I leading the way, Luke and John with the
led horses following, and the other two bringing up the rear.
The rain continuing to fall and the country in this part being dreary
and monotonous, even in fair weather, I felt my spirits sink still lower
as the day advanced. The responsibility I was going to incur assumed
more serious proportions each time I scanned my following; while
Fresnoy, plying me with perpetual questions respecting my plans, was as
uneasy a companion as my worst enemy could have wished me.
‘Come!’ he grumbled presently, when we had covered four leagues or
so, ‘you have not told me yet, sieur, where we stay to-night. You are
travelling so slowly that--’
‘I am saving the horses,’ I answered shortly. ‘We shall do a long day
to-morrow.’
‘Yours looks fit for a week of days,’ he sneered, with an evil look at
my Sardinian, which was, indeed, in better case than its master. ‘It is
sleek enough, any way!’
‘It is as good as it looks,’ I answered, a little nettled by his tone.
‘There is a better here,’ he responded.
‘I don’t see it,’ I said. I had already eyed the nags all round, and
assured myself that, ugly and blemished as they were, they were up to
their work. But I had discerned no special merit among them. I looked
them over again now, and came to the same conclusion--that, except the
led horses, which I had chosen with some care, there was nothing among
them to vie with the Cid, either in speed or looks. I told Fresnoy so.
‘Would you like to try?’ he said tauntingly.
I laughed, adding, ‘If you think I am going to tire our horses by racing
them, with such work as we have before us, you are mistaken, Fresnoy. I
am not a boy, you know.’
‘There need be no question of racing,’ he answered more quietly. ‘You
have only to get on that rat-tailed bay of Matthew’s to feel its paces
and say I am right.’
I looked at the bay, a bald-faced, fiddle-headed horse, and saw that,
with no signs of breeding, it was still a big-boned animal with good
shoulders and powerful hips. I thought it possible Fresnoy might be
right, and if so, and the bay’s manners were tolerable, it might do for
mademoiselle better than the horse I had chosen. At any rate, if we had
a fast horse among us, it was well to know the fact, so bidding Matthew
change with me, and be careful of the Cid, I mounted the bay, and
soon discovered that its paces were easy and promised speed, while its
manners seemed as good as even a timid rider could desire.
Our road at the time lay across a flat desolate heath, dotted here and
there with, thorn-bushes; the track being broken and stony, extended
more than a score of yards in width, through travellers straying to this
side and that to escape the worst places. Fresnoy and I, in making the
change, had fallen slightly behind the other three, and were riding
abreast of Matthew on the Cid.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘was I not right?’
‘In part,’ I answered. ‘The horse is better than its looks.’
‘Like many others,’ he rejoined, a spark of resentment in his tone--‘men
as well as horses, M. de Marsac. But What do you say? Shall we canter on
a little and overtake the others?’
Thinking it well to do so, I assented readily, and we started together.
We had ridden, however, no more than a hundred yards, and I was only
beginning to extend the bay, when Fresnoy, slightly drawing rein, turned
in his saddle and looked back. The next moment he cried, ‘Hallo! what is
this? Those fellows are not following us, are they?’
I turned sharply to look. At that moment, without falter or warning, the
bay horse went down under me as if shot dead, throwing me half a dozen
yards over its head; and that so suddenly that I had no time to raise my
arms, but, falling heavily on my head and shoulder, lost consciousness.
I have had many falls, but no other to vie with that in utter
unexpectedness. When I recovered my senses I found myself leaning, giddy
and sick, against the bole of an old thorn-tree. Fresnoy and Matthew
supported me on either side, and asked me how I found myself; while the
other three men, their forms black against the stormy evening sky, sat
their horses a few paces in front of me. I was too much dazed at first
to see more, and this only in a mechanical fashion; but gradually, my
brain grew clearer, and I advanced from wondering who the strangers
round me were to recognising them, and finally to remembering what had
happened to me.
‘Is the horse hurt?’ I muttered as soon as I could speak.
‘Not a whit,’ Fresnoy answered, chuckling, or I was much mistaken. ‘I am
afraid you came off the worse of the two, captain.’
He exchanged a look with the men on horseback as he spoke, and in a dull
fashion I fancied I saw them smile. One even laughed, and another turned
in his saddle as if to hide his face. I had a vague general sense that
there was some joke on foot in which I had no part. But I was too much
shaken at the moment to be curious, and gratefully accepted the offer of
one, of the men to fetch me a little water. While he was away the rest
stood round me, the same look of ill-concealed drollery on their faces.
Fresnoy alone talked, speaking volubly of the accident, pouring out
expressions of sympathy and cursing the road, the horse, and the wintry
light until the water came; when, much refreshed by the draught, I
managed to climb to the Cid’s saddle and plod slowly onwards with them.
‘A bad beginning,’ Fresnoy said presently, stealing a sly glance at
me as we jogged along side by side, Chize half a league before us, and
darkness not far off.
By this time, however, I was myself again, save for a little humming is
the head, and, shrugging my shoulders, I told him so. ‘All’s well that
ends well,’ I added. ‘Not that it was a pleasant fall, or that I wish to
have such another.’
‘No, I should think not,’ he answered. His face was turned from me, but
I fancied I heard him snigger.
Something, which may have been a vague suspicion, led me a moment later
to put my hand into my pouch. Then I understood. I understood too well.
The sharp surprise of the discovery was such that involuntarily I drove
my spurs into the Cid, and the horse sprang forward.
‘What is the matter?’ Fresnoy asked.
‘The matter?’ I echoed, my hand still at my belt, feeling--feeling
hopelessly.
‘Yes, what is it?’ he asked, a brazen smile on his rascally face.
I looked at him, my brow as red as fire. ‘Oh! nothing--nothing,’ I said.
‘Let us trot on.’
In truth I had discovered that, taking advantage of my helplessness, the
scoundrels had robbed me, while I lay insensible, of every gold crown
in my purse! Nor was this all, or the worst, for I saw at once that
in doing so they had effected something which was a thousandfold more
ominous and formidable--established against me that secret understanding
which it was my especial aim to prevent, and on the absence of which I
had been counting. Nay, I saw that for my very life I had only my friend
the cutler and my own prudence to thank, seeing that these rogues would
certainly have murdered me without scruple had they succeeded in finding
the bulk of my money. Baffled in this, while still persuaded that I had
other resources, they had stopped short of that villany--or this memoir
had never been written. They had kindly permitted me to live until a
more favourable opportunity of enriching themselves at my expense should
put them in possession of my last crown!
Though I was sufficiently master of myself to refrain from complaints
which I felt must be useless, and from menaces which it has never
been my habit to utter unless I had also the power to put them into
execution, it must not be imagined that I did not, as I rode on by
Fresnoy’s side, feel my position acutely or see how absurd a figure
I cut in my dual character of leader and dupe. Indeed, the reflection
that, being in this perilous position, I was about to stake another’s
safety as well as my own, made me feel the need of a few minutes’
thought so urgent that I determined to gain them, even at the risk
of leaving my men at liberty to plot further mischief. Coming almost
immediately afterwards within sight, of the turrets of the Chateau of
Chize, I told Fresnoy that we should lie the night at the village;
and bade him take the men on and secure quarters at the inn. Attacked
instantly by suspicion and curiosity, he demurred stoutly to leaving me,
and might have persisted in his refusal had I not pulled up, and clearly
shown him that I would have my own way in this case or come to an open
breach. He shrank, as I expected, from the latter alternative, and,
bidding me a sullen adieu, trotted on with his troop. I waited until
they were out of sight, and then, turning the Cid’s head, crossed a
small brook which divided the road from the chase, and choosing a
ride which seemed to pierce the wood in the direction of the Chateau,
proceeded down it, keeping a sharp look-out on either hand.
It was then, my thoughts turning to the lady who was now so near, and
who, noble, rich, and a stranger, seemed, as I approached her, not the
least formidable of the embarrassments before me--it was then that I
made a discovery which sent a cold shiver through my frame, and in
a moment swept all memory of my paltry ten crowns from my head.
Ten crowns! Alas! I had lost that which was worth all my crowns put
together--the broken coin which the King of Navarre had entrusted to
me, and which formed my sole credential, my only means of persuading
Mademoiselle de la Vire that I came from him. I had put it in my pouch,
and of course, though the loss of it only came home to my mind now, it
had disappeared with the rest.
I drew rein and sat for some time motionless, the image of despair.
The wind which stirred the naked boughs overhead, and whirled the
dead leaves in volleys past my feet, and died away at last among the
whispering bracken, met nowhere with wretchedness greater, I believe,
than was mine at that moment.