A Traitor to the King
It was on the evening of the first day in August, 1568, that I rode into
the village of Le Blanc. All day long a pitiless sun had been beating
down on the arid earth, with not one freshening breeze to temper the
intense heat, and even now not a breath of air stirred so much as a
solitary leaf on the trees.
My poor beast dragged wearily along, and his fatigue was scarcely
greater than my own.
"Good old fellow!" I said, stroking his neck affectionately, "a few
hundred yards more and we shall be at home. Food and water, clean straw,
and a shady place for you. Ha, ha, old fellow, that makes you prick up
your ears!"
We trailed along the sun-baked street; the door of every house was wide
open; the villagers, men, women, and children sprawled listlessly in the
coolest places, hardly raising their eyes at the beat of my horse's
hoofs.
But those who did glance up gazed at me curiously, and once or twice I
heard a muttered, "'Tis Monsieur Edmond!" as if I were the last person
they expected to see in my own home. Their strange glances, half
surprise, half pity, made me uncomfortable, and set me wondering whether
any accident had happened.
However, I proceeded slowly as far as the inn, outside which half a
dozen men had congregated, while old Pierre himself stood in the
doorway. They greeted me in wonder, and again I heard some one say,
"'Tis Monsieur Edmond!"
"Well, my friends," I exclaimed, with perhaps a suggestion of annoyance
in my voice, "is there any reason why it should not be Monsieur Edmond?
Did you think me dead, or has the heat affected your brains? Speak up,
some of you!"
"Is monsieur going to the castle?" asked Pierre.
"Of course I am!" I answered half angrily.
"Perhaps monsieur will dismount and enter the inn. Things have happened
since monsieur went away."
A great fear seized me, but, keeping my features under control, I
slipped from the saddle, and, bidding the ostler take charge of the
animal, followed Pierre into the one private room the inn contained.
"Now, Pierre," I exclaimed, "tell me the story quickly, in as few words
as possible."
"First then, monsieur," began the old man in his quavering voice, "it is
useless going to the castle, as it is shut up."
"The castle shut up!" I cried in astonishment. "Well, go on with the
story; it promises plenty of interest."
"Shortly after your departure, monsieur, many rumours spread abroad.
Some said one thing, some mother; but no one knew the truth. Then, one
night, your father sent for me to the castle. He ordered me to watch
for your return, and to tell you he had gone to Rochelle. Not another
word, monsieur, except that you were to join him, and to keep out of the
way of the king's troops."
"This is strange news!" I said.
"Your father must have gone away that night, monsieur, for next day the
castle was deserted. And it was well he did not stay longer," the old
man concluded, with a wise shake of the head.
"Why?" I asked anxiously.
"The next night, monsieur, we were roused from sleep by the tramping of
soldiers. I ran to the window and looked out. There were more than two
hundred of them marching through the village. On arriving at the castle,
they found they were too late. Their leader was very angry; he raved
like a madman."
"Did you go to listen to him?"
"No, monsieur, he slept here at the inn. The next day he had all the
villagers drawn up outside, and made them a grand speech. Had it not
been for his soldiers, I think he would not have left the village
alive."
"Then he made the good folk angry?"
"Monsieur, it was terrible. He said the Sieur Le Blanc was a traitor to
the king, that he had harboured one of the king's enemies, and that his
life was forfeit to the law. Any man was to shoot him like a dog. He
said all this, monsieur, and more, much more. Then he called in the
leading men one by one, and questioned them closely, but they knew
nothing."
"He should have asked you, Pierre."
"He did, monsieur, but he said I was a stupid dolt, with no more sense
than one of my own casks!" and the old man broke into a hearty laugh.
"You had a guest the night I went away; he left early in the morning.
Who was he?"
"I do not know, monsieur. He was a stranger who wished to learn all he
could about the chief folk in the district; but he was an enemy to the
Cause, and he did not carry away much information. Old Pierre was too
dense to understand his questions," and the old man chuckled again.
"Well," I said after a pause, "since it is useless going to the castle,
I must put up here for the night. I am tired and hungry. Get me some
supper and a bed; meanwhile I must attend to my horse; the poor beast
has carried me far."
Pierre's information was very disquieting, but, as my father had
evidently received timely warning, I trusted he had effected his escape,
and that by this time he was safely sheltered behind the strong walls of
La Rochelle.
When Pierre brought in the supper I asked after Jacques, and, hearing he
had not returned, told the landlord to inform him of what had happened.
Whether he would endeavour to get into Rochelle or not I left to
himself.
I ate my supper slowly, my mind fully occupied with this extraordinary
occurrence. Why had my father thus suddenly been marked down for
vengeance? He was a noted Huguenot, 'twas true, but he was not a leader
such as Condé or the Admiral. He had sheltered the wounded messenger,
and had allowed me to carry the warning to Tanlay.
This, of course, was sufficient to incur the Queen-Mother's displeasure;
but how had the knowledge reached her? Who was there at Le Blanc able
and willing to betray our secrets? Not a soul, unless----! Ah, the name
leaped of itself into my mind. Who was the maker of mischief but Etienne
Cordel?
I put together all that I had heard of this man whom Jacques detested so
thoroughly. He was a lawyer, who, by some means, had amassed wealth and
lands. Numerous stories, all evil, were related of him, and it was
rumoured that he had long served as a useful tool to persons in high
places. At least he had prospered exceedingly in some mysterious manner,
and it was said he had been promised a patent of nobility. I called for
Pierre, and asked if he had heard anything fresh lately of this upstart
lawyer.
"No, monsieur," he answered, "Cordel had gone away before the soldiers
came, and he has not yet returned. He went hurriedly, after a visit from
the cavalier who slept here. Monsieur does not think----"
"For the present I think nothing, Pierre. I am tired and will go to bed.
Get me an early breakfast, so that I can proceed on my journey in the
cool of the morning."
Of what use were my suspicions, even if I proved them to be correct? The
mischief was done, and I could not undo it. My father was a fugitive
from his home, to which he dared not return, and it only remained for me
to join him.
I went to bed, and, in spite of my anxiety, was soon asleep, for the
long journey from Noyers had been both tedious and fatiguing. Pierre
called me early, and while the village still slumbered I set forth.
"Monsieur goes to Rochelle?" asked the old man, as I vaulted lightly
into the saddle.
"Yes, at present I intend going to Rochelle."
"It is said here that the war has begun again."
"If it has not, it soon will, Pierre, and when it is finished, the Sieur
Le Blanc will once more be master of his castle."
"Heaven grant it, monsieur," said he earnestly, as I rode off.
The state of the country west of Le Blanc was even more deplorable than
what I had seen during my journey to Tanlay. The fields were bare both
of corn and of cattle; the villagers were starving; the people of the
towns went about in fear and trembling; the king's troops robbed as they
pleased without restraint.
At Poictiers I found the citizens in a state of dangerous excitement.
Armed bands, some Huguenots, some Catholics, patrolled the streets,
singing and shouting, and uttering threats of vengeance. Fearful of
being mixed up in these disturbances, I alighted before the door of the
first decent inn, gave my horse to the ostler, and entered.
"Your streets are a trifle dangerous for a peaceful traveller," I
remarked to the landlord, who showed me to a room.
"What would you, monsieur?" he asked, with a shrug of the shoulders;
"the times are evil. These miserable heretics disturb the whole country
with their senseless brawls. But the mischief will be stamped out before
long."
"How?" I said. "Has not the king granted them the privilege of
worshipping in their own way?"
"Ah, monsieur, that was meant but for a time. The Queen-Mother will make
a clean sweep of their rights as soon as she has power enough. And it is
said," here he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper, "that a
royal army is already marching from Paris. But monsieur is hungry?"
"Hungry and thirsty both," I replied. "What is that?" for the sounds of
angry voices came from the outside.
"It is nothing, monsieur; some one has drawn a knife, perhaps, and there
is a little fighting, but that is all. One does not regard these
things," and he hurried off to prepare my meal.
After leaving Poictiers, I avoided the towns as much as possible, though
travelling in the country districts was nearly as hazardous. The
peasants having no work, and being without food, had formed themselves
into robber bands, and more than once I owed my safety to the fleetness
of my horse.
However, on the evening of the second day, I reached Rochelle, just as
the gates were being closed. The streets were filled with citizens and
Huguenot soldiers, and it was apparent that the illustrious fugitives
had arrived safely at their stronghold.
Being a stranger to the city I rode slowly along the street, noting the
houses, and scanning the people closely, on the chance of discovering a
familiar face. In all my solitary wanderings I had not felt as lonely as
I did now, amidst a seething crowd of my fellow-creatures.
The first thing, of course, was to find my father, but on coming to the
_Hôtel Coligny_, I resolved to dismount and to seek out Felix Bellièvre.
Fortunately, he was within, and I received a hearty welcome, which
caused me to feel once more as if I belonged to the world of human
beings.
"Faith, Edmond," he cried cheerily, "the grass has not grown under your
feet! I did not expect you until to-morrow, at the earliest."
"One does not care to linger around an empty nest," I replied moodily.
"Empty only for a short time, I hope. Do not look so astonished. I have
seen your father. More than that, I have been presented to your sister.
Already I am a friend of the family! I will conduct you to the house, if
you wish. Come, I have plenty of leisure, and you will serve as an
excellent excuse for my visit."
"How did you happen to become acquainted with my father?" I asked, as we
walked along.
"In the simplest way imaginable, my dear Edmond. He called to pay his
respects to the Admiral; being on duty at the time, I heard his name,
and made myself known as your friend. He was eager to hear news of you,
and carried me off. I met your sister, and you will not be surprised
that within twenty-four hours I was repeating my visit. You see there
were so many things to tell her about yourself," and he laughed
roguishly.
"Are they depressed by what has happened?"
"Not in the least; they regard it as a trial of their faith; but here we
are at the house. I fear you will not see your estimable aunt; she is an
invalid, and keeps strictly to her own rooms. Ah, here is one of the
servants; let him attend to your animal, and I will announce you. Your
sister will fall on your neck and embrace you. Do you think it possible
for us to change parts for a few minutes?"
He was still laughing and talking in his madcap way when a door opened,
and my father came towards us.
"Edmond!" he cried, on seeing me, "now this is indeed bright sunshine
gleaming through the dark clouds. Monsieur Bellièvre, you are doubly
welcome, for your own sake and for what you bring with you!"
The memory of the pleasant evening that followed I treasured for many
years. I sat beside my mother, my hand clasped in hers, telling her the
story of my adventures. Jeanne was full of high spirits, while Felix was
simply overflowing with wit and good-humoured drollery.
The only drawback to our enjoyment was the absence of the trusted
Jacques, but even that was slight, as he was not seriously wounded, and
from the household of the noble Count St. Cyr he was certain to receive
every attention.
Nothing was said that evening about the visit of the troops to Le Blanc,
but the next morning I had a long talk with my father on the subject. I
told him what I had learned from old Pierre, and also my suspicions
concerning Etienne Cordel.
"The advocate is a scheming rogue," he said, "who bears me no goodwill
because I have laughed at his pretensions to be considered our equal. He
is in the pay of Monseigneur, and he has acted as a spy on those of the
Religion; but, unless he heard of the affair of the letter, he could do
me no harm."
"He must have heard of it from the stranger with whom we travelled," I
declared. "Jacques distrusted him from the first, and believed he was
one of those who attacked Devine. Did he recover?"
"Yes; he is in Rochelle, fretting and fuming at having been prevented
from fulfilling his mission. But to return to our own affairs. Have you
considered what this proclamation means?"
"That your life is in danger."
"A bagatelle, Edmond. It has been in danger these many years. There is
something far more serious. As a traitor to the king, my estates are
forfeit, and you will grow up to see another man master of the land
which by right is yours. It is a heavy price for you to pay, my boy."
Now I hold it folly to pretend that this caused me no grief, but I was
young and enthusiastic, and sensible enough to know that any sign of
sorrow would add to my father's unhappiness. So I looked straight into
his eyes and said brightly, "Others have paid a heavy price for their
faith without murmuring; I am strong enough to do the same."
He held me in his arms and kissed my cheeks, saying: "Now God bless and
reward you for those brave words, my son," and never before in all my
life had I seen him so deeply moved.