I Save Cordel's Life
Leading the horse to the road I helped Jacques to mount, for in spite of
his bold words he was still very weak, and then walked along by his
side. The night was passing, though it was not yet light, but as the
road stretched straight ahead of us for several miles we could not
mistake the way.
I walked at a smart pace, but rather with the idea of reaching some
place of shelter than from any fear of danger. Our pursuers had
abandoned the chase, and for a while, at least, were unlikely to renew
it. They were too tired for a fresh pursuit, and their animals were worn
out.
Jacques being still wrapped in my cloak, I was able to walk briskly, and
this prevented me from feeling the cold. Mile after mile I trudged
along, and as we proceeded the haze of darkness lifted, and dawn began
to glimmer in the eastern sky.
Save for ourselves the road was deserted; the country around seemed
dead; not a hamlet, not even a house appeared in sight. Everything was
gloomy and depressing; the very rays of the sun were cold and
cheerless, and the bare trees added only another dreary feature to the
landscape.
Several times Jacques begged earnestly that we should change places,
but, knowing this would make the pace slower, I insisted on his keeping
his seat.
"We will stop at the first inn," I said, "have some food and a rest, and
procure another horse."
About eight o'clock we entered the street of a village and drew up
before the door of the inn. Jacques dismounted, the ostler led the
animal away, and we entered the house, the landlord, who could not
conceal his curiosity, showing us a room.
"A good breakfast," I said; "the best the house contains. And while you
are getting it ready we will put ourselves straight. Have you any salve
suitable for cuts and bruises?"
"Yes, monsieur; I will fetch some."
"Faith, Jacques," I exclaimed, when the man had bustled off, "you are a
pretty object at present. There is a lump as large as a hen's egg on
your head, and your face is covered with bruises, which will show more
distinctly when we get the dirt off."
"Perhaps it had better be kept on," said he, smiling cheerily.
After we had brushed our soiled clothing and washed ourselves I applied
some salve to Jacques' bruises, while the landlord prepared a compress
for the swelling on his head. Then we sat down to breakfast, and our
attack on the provisions proved that the startling adventures of the
past night had not robbed us of our appetites.
I had, meanwhile, arranged with the landlord to furnish us with a
second horse, and now suggested that Jacques should take a couple of
hours' rest before starting. Against this he protested vigorously,
declaring he had slept well during the night, and that it was I who
needed rest.
At last he persuaded me to lie down, while he sat in the room facing the
road, with a loaded pistol in one hand and another by his side. Nothing
happened however, during the time I slept, and at the end of the second
hour Jacques wakened me.
The food and rest had made new men of us, and, having settled accounts
with the landlord, we mounted our horses, and set off cheerfully in the
direction of Le Blanc. For the time being the danger had passed. It was
broad daylight, and every yard forward brought us nearer to my friends.
But there were several things in the adventure to worry me, and that
evening, after we had safely reached home, I called Jacques into my room
to discuss the matter.
"I don't pretend to understand it, monsieur," he said, "but I feel sure
these fellows were in the lawyer's pay. Who else would set a trap for
you?"
"I cannot think. Cordel is my only enemy, and yet before concluding it
was he who planned the assault there are one or two questions to answer.
Casimir, for instance, was he in league with our assailants? If so, he
played his part marvellously well, and blinded me effectually."
"So he did me; but he was in league with them, for all that. Remember
how he shot at a man in the wood, when no man was there."
"I certainly neither saw nor heard one."
"Nor did Casimir. The shot was a signal to his comrades, and told them
that his trick had succeeded. And then his fear about being dragged into
your quarrel! That was a blind, monsieur, meant to throw you off your
guard."
"It certainly succeeded," I was forced to admit.
"And the fuss he made about foundering his horse! It was a mere trick to
delay us on the road; there was nothing the matter with the beast."
"Do you think," I asked, "he behaved so rudely to those horsemen through
fear that they might upset the plot?"
"No, monsieur," replied Jacques, with a shake of the head; "I cannot see
through it clearly, but in my opinion that was all a part of the scheme.
I believe they were the fellows who rode out on you while I was lying
stunned."
"But why should they join us?"
"There is no telling, monsieur. It might have been to learn from Casimir
if it was safe to carry out their plot. He was a crafty rogue. I had no
suspicion of the truth until he began to make his horse plunge and rear.
Then I knew he meant to kill me--by accident!" he concluded grimly.
"And in the confusion it would have been an easy matter to settle my
account!"
"A very easy matter," agreed Jacques.
"The facts fit in well with your idea," I said, after a pause; "but if
you are right, the puzzle becomes worse than ever."
"In what way, monsieur."
"It brings us face to face with this question--was Casimir in the pay of
two employers--one my friend the other my enemy?"
"Pardon me, monsieur," exclaimed Jacques hesitatingly, "but are you sure
this adventurer is your friend? He once tried to take your life; he
belongs to the opposite camp, and he is a henchman of Monseigneur's, who
certainly does not love the Huguenots. You have done this man a service,
but it is easy to forget benefits."
"I am afraid that is so, Jacques, yet I cannot doubt L'Estang. Besides,
he had me in his power the night he came here."
"Yes," said my servant, with a queer smile, "but he knew that had he
done you any harm he would never have left the room alive."
"Still, we will assume that L'Estang is really my friend. In that case
Casimir must have sold his knowledge to the lawyer. But if he was in
touch with Cordel, who would shoot at him in the wood?"
"A friendly hand could shoot a hole through a cloak. Of course, it is
just possible Casimir did not come from L'Estang at all. It is as easy
to kill two messengers as one, and the first was killed."
"But how would he know what was in the letter? It had not been opened."
"I had not thought of that," said Jacques. "It drives me back on my
first suspicion, which monsieur does not like. But, unless L'Estang
helped in the plot, I cannot understand how it was carried out!"
We sat talking half the night, but without coming any nearer to solving
the problem, and at last, thoroughly tired, I went to bed. Out of the
whole tangle one thing only was plain--Etienne Cordel was playing a
desperate game, and no scruples would prevent him from winning it.
And there was no way of getting at the rascal! He laid his plots with so
much skill that I could accuse him of nothing. I had no real proofs
against him, and without proofs he could laugh in my face.
The story of the attempt on my life quickly spread abroad, and the
villagers came in a crowd to learn if I had been injured.
"Who are the villains, monsieur?" cried Urie. "Tell us who they are, and
we will make an end of them."
"Ay," said another; "we will pull them in pieces!" and his companions
shouted their approval.
"No," I exclaimed, "you must do nothing against the law, or you will be
made to suffer for it. Two of the rascals are dead, and the others are
not likely to trouble me again. But there is no harm in keeping watch on
any strangers hanging about the neighbourhood."
"We will do that, monsieur!" they cried, and at last I succeeded in
persuading them to return to their homes.
The excitement, however, did not die down, and the next evening Jacques
informed me there was a fierce talk going on at old Pierre's. Some one
had started the report that my enemy was Etienne Cordel, and a cry had
been raised to march to his house and burn it about his ears.
"But they do not mean it?" I exclaimed.
"As far as words go, they do," replied Jacques; "but dogs that are so
ready to bark rarely bite."
He treated the subject so lightly that I thought no more of it; but
about ten o'clock a woman came from the village with the news that a
number of the men, armed with clubs, pikes and forks, had started off in
a body for the lawyer's house. In answer to my anxious questioning she
said they had been gone some time, and had taken a short cut across
country.
"Saddle the horses, Jacques!" I cried; "this must be stopped. Cordel has
influence enough to have every one of them broken on the wheel. Look
alive, man!"
Putting on my boots hastily, I followed him to the stables, when we
saddled the horses and led them out. I was in a fever of excitement lest
we should not arrive at the house in time, since it was necessary for us
to take the longer route by the road.
Jacques endeavoured to calm me, saying, "They will do no harm; they will
only shout and threaten, and frighten the old fox half out of his wits.
It won't hurt him, and it may teach him a lesson."
This was likely enough, but, fearing lest these foolish people should
get themselves into trouble I galloped along, almost as fast as when my
two assailants were in pursuit of me. Fortunately, we met no
travellers, but, on turning into the cross-road leading to the lawyer's
house, I heard a confused roar of voices. The villagers had arrived
before us.
I spurred my willing beast, swept swiftly along the narrrow road, shot
through the open gateway, and drew up in front of the building, where a
mob of men were shouting and yelling for Etienne Cordel.
"Bring your pikes!" roared one, "and break the door down!"
"Smoke the old fox out!" yelled another; and at that a dozen cried,
"Yes, yes, that's the plan! Smoke the fox out, or let him die in his
den."
Some had brought torches, and in their lurid glare the peasants looked
quite truculent and formidable. Pushing between them and the building, I
called for silence, but the sound of my voice caused the hubbub to grow
louder.
"Monsieur Edmond!" they yelled, giving me the name by which I was best
known to them; "Bravo, bravo, we will see justice done, monsieur!"
"Be quiet!" I cried angrily, "and listen to me. Do you know what you are
doing?"
"Yes, yes. Burn the house down! He set the murderers on!"
"Who told you that?"
"Let him deny it! Where is he? Fetch him out!"
They were excited, even dangerous; I almost doubted if my influence was
sufficient to keep them from doing mischief; yet in ordinary times they
were as docile and obedient as a flock of sheep. They vowed they would
not depart unless Cordel came out to them, and at length the lawyer
appeared on the balcony which ran along the front of the house above the
ground floor.
He had huddled on a dressing-gown, and looked so wretched and forlorn
that I almost felt it in my heart to pity him. But the mob showed no
mercy, greeting him with cries of "Assassin!" "Murderer!" and declaring
loudly that he was unfit to live.
As soon as their shouts ceased, I exclaimed, "Monsieur Cordel, an
attempt has been made on my life, and it is rumoured that you hired the
men to kill me. Perhaps you will satisfy these good people that they are
mistaken!"
He leaned over the railing and looked down, his face yellow, his eyes
staring, evidently in abject fear for his life.
"My friends," he cried desperately, and it made one laugh to hear him
address these peasants, whom he utterly despised, as his friends, "I
know nothing; I am innocent; I have conspired against no man's life. I
swear it!"
The fellow lied, and knew that I was aware of it, but for the sake of
the people themselves, I was bound to protect him. An attack on the
house would be followed by a visit from the king's troops, and I
shuddered to think of the miseries the unfortunate villagers would
suffer.
"You hear his denial," I cried loudly, "you have been deceived. We
cannot punish an innocent man. Now disperse quietly to your homes. Have
no fear for me; I can hold my own against any assassins who may come to
Le Blanc."
They departed sullenly, still murmuring threats of vengeance, and
turning round to shake their motley weapons menacingly at Cordel's
house.
"Now, Monsieur Cordel," I cried, when the last of them had disappeared,
"you can go to sleep without fear. I rejoice that I got here in time to
prevent mischief; but, monsieur," I added drily, "had the ruffians
killed me, I could not have come to your rescue!" and with that parting
shot I rode off.
"'Tis a pity you had to stop them," said Jacques presently; they would
have made short work of the rascal."
"And have been fearfully punished afterwards!"
"As to that, monsieur, he will do them all the mischief he can now if he
gets a chance."
The next morning I sent for Urie and the leading men, lectured them on
the folly of their proceedings, pointed out the risks they were running,
and made them promise to keep their companions from committing any
violence in the future.
"You are more or less in Monsieur Cordel's power," I said; "he has
strong friends at Court, while I have none, and am unable to protect
you."
"We will be careful," replied Urie for the others, "but if anything
happens to monsieur the rascally lawyer will have need of all his
powerful friends."
The failure of his plot--if it was his plot--served to keep the lawyer
quiet for a while. He remained at home with only his own domestics in
the house, and although many men kept a strict watch no
suspicious-looking stranger was seen to visit him.
Meanwhile the prospects of those of the Religion began to brighten: the
king was apparently throwing off the influence of his mother and
brother; it was reported that he relied more and more on the advice of
Coligny, and in spite of the Pope and the Guises, he was still
stubbornly bent on marrying his sister to Henry of Bearn.
The Queen of Navarre was at Blois, and Jeanne wrote me a long account of
the balls and festivities Charles had arranged. I do not suppose they
appealed strongly to Queen Joan, who had little taste for such worldly
matters, but the music, the dance, and the joyous merriment were quite
to the liking of the younger ladies in her train.
"The king has persuaded my dear mistress to consent to the marriage,"
Jeanne wrote, "and it is settled that we are to go from here to Paris.
Felix has just left for Touraine. He is a dear, good fellow, and has
been very kind. He says it is stupid for you to stay at Le Blanc. The
king is so full of the marriage and of affairs of State that he will not
attend to any less important business. Felix declares that if Prince
Henry comes to Paris you must come too, and push your claims. It is
certain that the prince's marriage will stop all further persecution of
the Huguenots, and it is that which caused my mistress to give her
consent. Felix told me yesterday that the Guises are very angry with the
king, and have gone away. From all I hear, I really believe he would be
pleased if they never came back."
I read portions of my sister's letter to Jacques, but when I remarked
that our troubles were nearly at an end, he shook his head, saying,
"Those who live will see, monsieur."