L'Estang Tells His Story
Spring had ripened into summer, and I was still at Le Blanc, not having
heard from my patron, and being unwilling to depart without his orders.
Cordel had gone to Paris, and, for the time at least, had abandoned his
schemes.
One day, about the third week in June, I had just returned from a
morning gallop when Jacques met me in the courtyard with the news that
Ambroise Devine had brought me a packet from Monsieur Bellièvre.
I had almost forgotten the man, never having seen him since the morning
when I started on the memorable journey to Tanlay.
"It is along while since we met," I said, greeting him. "My father told
me you recovered from your wounds, and I expected to find you in
Rochelle."
"Rochelle forms my headquarters, so to speak, monsieur, but I am in the
hands of the chiefs. My last journey was to Flanders, whence I am now
returning. Hearing that I was on my way to Rochelle, Monsieur Bellièvre
entrusted me with this packet for you."
"You must stay and have a gossip with me," said I, having thanked him;
"I hear little news from the outside world."
"You honour me, monsieur; but it is necessary for me to push on with all
speed; I am carrying important despatches."
"But you need refreshment!"
"Jacques has seen to that, monsieur, and also to my horse."
"We may meet again," I said, as he took his leave.
"It is very likely. There will be a gathering of our gentlemen in Paris
before long; but doubtless Monsieur Bellièvre has told you all the
news."
When he had gone I sat down eagerly to read my comrade's letter. There
was a smaller packet enclosed, but that I set aside. Felix wrote at some
length, and his first item of news was very startling.
"It will cause you both grief and astonishment," he wrote, "to learn of
the death of our good Queen Joan. She died on June 9, and some talk has
passed of her having been poisoned. There is, however, a great deal of
sickness here, and from what Jeanne tells me, I think the poor queen
took fever."
"This may cause events to move more rapidly," I thought. "Now that Henry
has become King of Navarre, he is a person of even greater importance.
Charles will need to reckon with him."
"Our patron," Felix continued, "remains in close attendance on the
king, who treats him with the utmost kindness, and even respect. The
Guises are in despair, Monseigneur is furious, and even the Queen-Mother
has to swallow her pride. This is strange, is it not?"
"Strange!" I exclaimed aloud, "it is a miracle! What else does this
wonderful budget contain?"
"Our patron has a grand scheme in his head. He is working hard to unite
the Huguenots and the Moderate Catholics into a national party, and to
declare war against Spain. The king has nearly consented, and unless the
Queen-Mother regains her power war may break out at any moment."
"Better to fight the Spaniards than to cut each other's throats," I
muttered.
"I have kept my best news until the last," the letter continued. "Our
patron believes the coming war will afford you the chance needed. He
will nominate you to a commission, and present you to the king at the
same time. For this purpose you must be here, and I am to instruct you
to repair at once to the _Hôtel Coligny_, at Paris. Is not this glorious
news?"
I had scarcely patience to finish the letter, feeling more inclined to
jump up and dance around the room; and yet the ending was full of
strange interest.
"A week ago, a man, closely muffled, who refused to give his name,
sought me out late at night. He wished, he said, to communicate with
you, but for a special reason preferred to send in an indirect way. He
finished by asking me to enclose a note the first time I was sending any
correspondence to Le Blanc. It sounded very mysterious, but thinking a
letter could not work much mischief I consented."
"That is odd," I thought, looking at the smaller packet, which bore no
address, and opening it I read in Renaud L'Estang's handwriting--
"Monsieur, I fear something has gone wrong. Did you
receive my letter? My messenger has not returned, and I
can hear no word of him. I am too busily engaged to leave
Monseigneur, and I do not care to send to you openly.
Cordel either suspects or knows that I am your friend.
D'ANGELY."
Calling Jacques, I handed the note to him, and asked his opinion.
"It does not help us a bit," he declared; "it explains nothing. If
L'Estang is a false friend, as I believe, he is merely trying by this
note to throw dust into your eyes. If, on the other hand, he was not a
party to the plot, the mystery remains the same."
"I fear you are right, Jacques. However, let us not trouble our heads
with the riddle; it will solve itself one of these days. I have other
news; can you guess what it is?"
"By your face, monsieur, it should be something pleasant: the king has
signed those tiresome papers!"
"Not exactly right," I answered laughing, "but I have hope of that
happening in time. We are going to Paris, Jacques. There is likely to be
war with Spain, and I am to receive the king's commission. It will be
better than fighting against those of our own race and blood; and if we
come through the campaign alive, Monsieur Cordel may even cast his eyes
on some other person's estates."
"When do we start?" asked Jacques eagerly.
"I have a few arrangements to make. Let us say the day after to-morrow."
"Very good, monsieur, but it is a long time to wait."
The lawyer was still absent from his house, but in case any of his spies
should carry information, Jacques let it be known the next morning that
in a few days we were going to La Rochelle; nor did I give my own
servants any different information.
It was a glorious summer morning when we set forth: the sun shone
brightly in a blue sky thinly flaked with snowy clouds; the birds
carolled joyously; the green leaves, made brilliant by the sunlight,
danced in the gentle breeze; a fresh, sweet smell rose from the fragrant
earth.
Many a long day had passed since my heart had felt so light, and as we
cantered into the highroad I hummed a gay refrain. I felt as if this was
bound to prove the most successful of our ventures.
I had real hope as a foundation on which to rear my airy castle. The war
of Religion was over and done with; Huguenot and Catholic would stand
shoulder to shoulder against the common foe; Monseigneur, the Guises,
and all those who were striving for their own interests to embroil the
country in civil strife would have to stand aside; France would at
length be united, and therefore strong.
My own private fortunes also wore a rosy tint that morning. Even if the
king did not restore my estates at the outset, he would certainly not
refuse to do so after I had fought his battles, and perhaps helped to
gain his victories! No, I had not a single fear when I turned to take a
last lingering view of the castle of Le Blanc.
As a matter of precaution we rode a few miles in the direction of La
Rochelle, but neither Jacques nor I expected that any further attempt
would be made upon us in that part of the country. Cordel was most
probably in Paris, and could have no knowledge of our sudden departure
from Le Blanc. In fact we reached Paris without any mishap, save the
casting of a horse's shoe, and the loss of a few hours one night when we
went astray in the darkness.
We entered Paris a little before the gate was closed for the night. It
was still very light, and the streets were filled with people, very few
of whom, however, took much notice of us. The capital was utterly
strange to me, and I knew nothing of Coligny's residence, except that it
was situated in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec. Overtaking an officer of the
king's guards I asked to be directed to that street, and he very
courteously undertook to conduct me part of the way.
"You are a stranger in Paris?" said he, looking critically at me and my
servant.
"Yes, I have but now arrived from the south, to meet a friend who lives
in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec."
"I should fancy," exclaimed the officer, with a humorous twinkle, "that
your friend's residence is not far from the _Hôtel Coligny_! Have you
borne arms, monsieur?"
"I fought at Arnay-le-Duc," I replied, feeling sure that my questioner
had already set me down in his own mind as a Huguenot.
"I was there, too," he said, "but I'll wager we were not on the same
side. However, those days are gone, and we may yet have a chance of
fighting under the same flag!" to which I replied that nothing would
give the members of our party more pleasure.
Having conducted me to the corner of the street and pointed out
Coligny's house he took his leave, with a cheery hope that I should find
my stay in town pleasant.
The Admiral was absent, but the house was occupied by several of his
gentlemen, who gave me a hearty welcome. Felix was somewhere in the town
on business, one said, not unconnected with my family, at which the
others laughed.
He came in about an hour later, when I learned he had been spending the
evening with the Countess Guichy, at whose house my sister was staying.
"The countess, my dear Edmond," said he, "is a relative of mine. She
does not belong to the Religion, but she is a worthy soul, and when
Queen Joan died and everything was in confusion, I persuaded your sister
to go to her until she could consult you as to her future."
"That was like your kind heart, Felix; you have ever been a good friend
to both of us. I had not thought how awkwardly Jeanne would be placed
by the queen's death."
"There is no need to thank me," he replied, "I have done the countess a
favour. Your sister has won her heart already, though to be sure there
is no miracle in that. They called her the Queen of Hearts at Blois. I
must take you to see her in the morning. Did Jacques come with you?"
"Yes, he is making himself at home with some of his old acquaintances;
but where is the Admiral?"
"At Fontainebleau with the king. Everything is settled; Henry comes to
Paris in a week or two, and there is to be a grand wedding. Our
opponents are furious, but helpless. There is only one thing I dread."
"What is that?" I asked, rather taken aback by the sudden serious look
on his face.
"There are ugly rumours about, Edmond. It is whispered that Guise has
sworn to take our patron's life. Coligny has received a dozen warnings,
but he is too fearless to notice them. He shrugs his shoulders and says
'It would be better to die a hundred times than to live in constant
fear. I am tired of such alarms, and have lived long enough.' But he
hasn't lived long enough, Edmond! Without him, the Cause would be
ruined."
"No one will dare to do him an injury while the king stands by him," I
said cheerfully. "If Charles is really his friend there is nothing to
fear."
"I am not so sure of that. Unless the Admiral is at his elbow Charles
is simply a tool in the hands of Monseigneur and the Queen-Mother."
"Even so it should be difficult for the assassin's knife to reach our
patron while he has his body-guard around him!" at which Felix laughed,
saying the Admiral frequently ventured abroad either alone, or with but
one or two attendants.
The next morning we set off for the Countess Guichy's, where Jeanne
received me with open arms. Since our last meeting she had become even
prettier, and I scarcely wondered that the gay young courtiers had
called her the "Queen of Hearts." She was very happy and cheerful, and
full of praise for Felix, who had watched over her as tenderly as if she
were his own sister.
The countess was a stately lady, with a kind face and twinkling eyes. It
was easy to see she had become very attached to Jeanne, and she would
listen to no arrangements that would remove my sister from her house.
"From all I can gather," she said, "you will be off to the wars soon,
and pray what will Jeanne do then? Bury herself in that musty Rochelle?
No, my dear, you shall remain with me until--ah, well, it isn't your
brother who will part us!" at which poor Jeanne flushed painfully.
The countess insisted on our remaining to dinner, after which we
escorted Jeanne into the city, Felix pointing out the sights and
describing the buildings with the air of one who had lived in Paris all
his life.
Our patron still being with the king we enjoyed a great deal of
leisure, and for nearly a week spent most of our time with the countess
and Jeanne, much to the satisfaction of Felix, who so contrived that I
always had the honour of escorting his noble relative.
We were returning late one evening, walking quietly along the Rue de
Bethisy, at the corner of which stood the Admiral's house, when a man,
who had evidently been watching the approaches to the building, tapped
me on the shoulder and whispered "Monsieur Le Blanc!"
He wore a large plumed hat which was drawn partly over his forehead, and
he was, besides, closely muffled, but I had no difficulty in recognizing
him as Renaud L'Estang. Telling Felix I would follow in a few minutes, I
turned aside with the adventurer into the courtyard of a large house
where we were not likely to be interrupted.
"I learned yesterday you were in Paris," he remarked, "and have been
watching for you. Did your friend send you my note?"
"Yes, but it was difficult to answer. Your first messenger was killed;
your second was a traitor. That is why I did not meet you at Poictiers."
"My second messenger!" he exclaimed in a tone of surprise. "Poictiers!
Either you or I must be dreaming! I sent but one man, and he vanished.
Why should you expect to meet me at Poictiers?"
"At your own invitation!" I replied.
"But, monsieur, this is a puzzle! I do not understand; it is beyond me."
"Perhaps," I remarked drily, "you have forgotten Casimir!"
At that he drew a long breath. "Casimir!" he exclaimed; "ah, that lets
in a little light. Monsieur, will you tell me the story? We shall get at
something surprising."
He listened attentively while I related what had happened, and then
"Truly," he said, "this Cordel is a clever rogue, and Casimir an able
tool. I have found him useful myself before now."
"He cheated you to some purpose in the end," I remarked.
"But he did not cheat me at all; I had nothing to do with him. Listen,
and judge for yourself. I discovered that the lawyer had bargained with
four men, one of whom was this very Casimir, to take your life. The
murder was to be done in such a manner that no suspicion should attach
to him, and the first thing was to get you away from Le Blanc."
"In that at least," said I laughing, "they succeeded."
"I wrote a letter warning you of this, and describing the four men, and
despatched it by the hand of a trusty messenger."
"He was worthy of your trust," I said.
"The second letter asking you to meet me at Poictiers was not written by
me."
"Then who was the writer?" I asked.
"It would be difficult to prove, but I should say it was Etienne Cordel.
Several little matters convinced me he had heard of my flying visit to
Le Blanc. That put him on his guard, and unfortunately my messenger was
known to Casimir and his companions."
"Do you think they tracked him?"
"Waylaid him in the wood, abstracted the letter, and carried it to the
lawyer. It was easy for him to imitate my writing, and the signature of
D'Angely would disarm suspicion."
"Your explanation certainly seems reasonable," I remarked.
"And I believe it to be true. And now, take my advice and be very
cautious. Men are cheap in Paris, and Cordel will stick at nothing. If I
can help you against him, you may be sure I will."
I thanked him warmly, and proceeded to the hotel.
"Jacques will be glad to know that gratitude is not altogether dead in
the world," I said to myself.