A Dastardly Deed
In the evening of that same day, the Admiral in passing to his room
inquired kindly if I had executed his commission, and appeared pleased
to learn that my sister had already started on her journey.
"I do not think it was necessary," he remarked, "but at least no harm
can come from it, and you will feel easier in your mind. Good-night,
gentlemen; our plans are progressing favourably, and I hope soon to have
good news for you all."
I went to bed early that night, for Felix, unlike his usual bright self,
was very gloomy and morose. I fancy he was not well pleased with the
coming of Roger Braund, and still less so with his ready offer to escort
Jeanne to Rochelle.
"What is the fellow doing here at all?" he asked. "Why can he not stay
in his own country?"
I ventured to suggest that no one put the question at Jarnac, or at
Montcontour, and that we of the Religion at least owed a great debt of
gratitude to Roger and his brave comrades. Felix seemed rather to resent
this remark, so I said no more, trusting that by another day he would
have recovered his good humour and pleasant manners.
I remember well how that memorable day began. It was Friday, August 22,
and as I wakened from a long sleep the cheery rays of the morning sun
flooded the room. How little any of us in the _Hôtel Coligny_ dreamed of
what was to happen before that same sun sank to rest!
After breakfast, Des Pruneaux drew me on one side. "The Admiral proceeds
to the Louvre this morning," he said. "De Guerchy and I attend him; you
and Bellièvre will walk a little distance behind us. Be more vigilant
even than usual, for there are strange rumours abroad."
Each trifling incident comes back to me now as vividly as if it happened
yesterday. We went to the Louvre, waited while our chief transacted his
business, and started on the journey home. Presently we met Charles, who
greeted the Admiral affectionately, and the two walked together in the
direction of the tennis-court. Des Pruneaux and De Guerchy joined the
king's attendants; Felix and I followed a few paces in the rear.
At the court Charles and the Duke of Guise made up a match against our
patron's son-in-law, Teligny, and a gentleman whose name I did not know.
The Admiral stood watching the game for some time, but between ten and
eleven o'clock he bade the king adieu and once more started for home. He
walked between Des Pruneaux and De Guerchy, talking cheerfully about the
game, and praising the skill of the king, for Charles was certainly an
accomplished player, superior in my opinion even to Guise.
"Yes," exclaimed Felix, to whom I passed some such remark, and who had
not altogether thrown off his bitterness of the previous day, "if he
were as good a ruler as tennis-player France might have some chance of
happiness."
"Well, he is making good progress even in that!" I replied cheerfully.
I have said that the _hôtel_ was in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, at the
corner of the Rue de Bethisy, and we were passing along the Rue des
Fossés de St. Germain, when a man approached the Admiral with what
looked like a petition. We quickened our pace, but the citizen was an
inoffensive person, and the Admiral, taking the paper, began to read,
walking on slowly the while.
He turned the corner in front of us, and was hidden for an instant from
our view, when we heard a loud report.
"Treachery!" cried my comrade, drawing his sword, and with a rush we
sped round the corner. My heart leaped into my mouth as I realized what
had happened. There was our noble chief, the truest, bravest, most
chivalrous man in France, supported in De Guerchy's arms.
Des Pruneaux, who was stanching the blood with a handkerchief, pointed
to the latticed windows of the _Hôtel de Retz_ on our right, and,
understanding it was from there the assassin had fired, we ran across,
my comrade's cries of "For the Admiral!" bringing out a number of
Huguenot gentlemen who lodged in the neighbourhood.
"This way!" I cried excitedly, "the assassin is in this house!" and the
next minute, having burst open the doors, we were swarming into the
building. Save for a deaf old woman and a horse-boy the place was empty,
and a howl of rage rose from the searchers.
Nothing could be got from the old woman, but Felix, clutching the boy by
the throat, demanded sternly "Where is the assassin? Speak, or I will
kill you!"
"The man who was upstairs has got away through the cloisters, monsieur.
I do not know him. I was only told to bring a swift horse from my
master's stables."
"Who is your master?"
"The Duke of Guise, monsieur," and at that another howl of execration
went up, several men shouting "Guise is the murderer! Kill the Duke of
Guise!"
"Whose house is this?" I asked.
The boy could not answer, but a voice cried out "Canon Vallemur's! He
used to be the Duke's tutor! Guise is the assassin!"
"Yes, yes! Let us kill Guise!"
"Here is the weapon," cried one of the searchers, bringing forward an
arquebus which he had found in the window; "it has Monseigneur's arms
stamped on it; it must belong to one of his body-guard. Guise and Anjou
are the murderers!"
"Come," exclaimed Felix, "we can do nothing here; the fellow is out of
the city by now!"
An excited crowd had gathered in front of the _Hôtel Coligny_, but,
pushing the people roughly aside, we made our way into the courtyard.
"Is he dead?" asked Felix of one of our comrades.
"No; one bullet carried off the first finger of his right hand; the
other wounded him seriously in the left arm. Paré"--the king's own
surgeon--"is attending him. They say Charles is furious, but I do not
know; all his family are accomplished actors. Were you there? Did you
see it done? Tell us all about it," and they gathered round as Felix
described the incident and the search in the empty house.
"Guise is the real murderer!" exclaimed one angrily.
"Or Anjou!"
"Or both!"
"If Charles doesn't punish them, we won't rest till we have made an end
of him and his whole stock!"
"'Tis likely he is as guilty as the rest!"
"And Coligny trusts him implicitly!"
"The Admiral is too trustful and kind-hearted! Did you hear what he said
to Des Pruneaux? 'I forgive freely and with all my heart both him that
struck me and those who incited him to do it.' If I catch the fellow, I
will tear him limb from limb!"
"Let us capture Guise and Anjou," cried Felix, "and if the Admiral dies
hang them both."
"Bravo, Bellièvre! There's sense in that! To arms, my friends! We will
have vengeance!" and a number of the most hot-headed were rushing out
wildly when a cry arose of "Navarre! Navarre!" and, going to the street,
we saw Henry of Navarre accompanied by five or six hundred Huguenot
gentlemen.
The gallant prince was angry and excited. "What means this foul
outrage?" he cried, leaping from his horse. "Have they slain our noble
leader?"
"No, no, sire; he has been shot at and wounded, but he is not dead. Way
there for Navarre! We want justice, sire!"
"By my faith, gentlemen," exclaimed the fiery Henry, as he mounted the
stairs, "you shall have it, or Navarre shall lose its monarch."
Save for the sick-room, where our illustrious chief lay, the whole house
was crowded with excited men. From time to time messengers arrived
bringing reports from the city, and from their accounts it really looked
as if Charles was bent on discovering and punishing the murderer. The
civic guards were mustered; the sentries at the gates doubled; and no
one was permitted to go armed into the streets.
"A blind!" cried some hotly. "There is no need to hunt for the murderer;
Charles can find him at his own table!"
"Why do we stay here?" cried Felix; "let us march to the palace and
demand justice!"
"Let us first consult Navarre," said another; "he must be our leader
now," and the majority agreed with this suggestion.
About two oclock a man came running into the courtyard crying "The king!
The king!" and shortly afterwards Charles appeared, followed by his
mother and Anjou. And here I must say that few of us, after looking at
his gloomy face, believed that he had any share in the dastardly plot
against our beloved chief. We let him pass in silence, but when Anjou
came, there were many muttered threats of vengeance, and more than one
loud cry of "Assassin!"
"Monseigneur comes to gloat over his victim!" exclaimed one man, and so
intense was our anger that but for the king's presence I doubt if
Monseigneur would have left the house alive.
When the royal party had ended their visit, Henry, Condé, and other
leading members of our party held a meeting in one of the lower rooms.
Felix and I remained on duty in the ante-chamber where De Guerchy came
to fetch us.
"The King of Navarre wishes to learn the truth about the discoveries in
Vallemur's house," he said.
The room was very crowded, and the nobles were discussing the situation
with fierce excitement.
"'Tis no time for playing like children," De Pilles was saying, "I tell
you we are all doomed; this is but the first stroke. Let us strike back,
and strike hard."
"I would suggest," said his neighbour, "that we get Coligny safe to
Rochelle, and then gather all our forces."
"We cannot move the Admiral; Paré will not answer for his life if he is
moved."
"My lords," said Teligny, "I do not think it is necessary. I am
convinced that the king has no hand in this vile outrage, and that if we
trust him he will bring the murderer to justice."
"What!" sneered De Pilles, "execute his own brother! Or even the Duke
of Guise! You have more faith in Charles than I have!"
"Where are those gentlemen who helped to search the house?" asked Henry.
"Let them stand forward. Ah, my friend," catching sight of me, "I have
not forgotten your face. Now let us hear the story, and why the Duke of
Guise is suspected in the matter."
Thereupon I related all that had occurred, and at the conclusion Henry
observed gravely, "Truly there is something here for the Duke to
explain!"
"Explain, sire!" cried De Pilles scornfully, "how can he explain? Who
here doubts the Duke's guilt? Let us kill him and Anjou, I say, or they
will kill us. Put no trust in Charles. They will drag him into the
plot."
"What would you have us do?" asked Henry; "overthrow the throne?"
"Ay," answered De Pilles stoutly, "I would clear the kingdom of the
whole family."
I cannot say what further arguments were used, as De Guerchy made a sign
for us to withdraw; but presently the meeting broke up, and the
cavaliers, mounting their horses, rode away, singing psalms, and vowing
to obtain justice.
"De Pilles was right!" exclaimed Felix, as we returned to the
ante-chamber; "this means war to the knife, and the sooner our leaders
give the word the better. I am thankful that your sister has left
Paris."
"We owe that to L'Estang I wonder if he had any actual information of
what was about to happen? I have a mind to endeavour to find him this
evening; he will probably be at the Louvre."
"We will go together," said Felix, and accordingly about seven o'clock,
there being nothing for us to do, we set out.
The city was in a state of intense excitement, the streets were
thronged, and groups of men were discussing the attempt on the Admiral's
life, and praising those who had directed the plot.
"The king is too weak," they said, "this Coligny twines him round his
finger. He should listen to Monseigneur and the Duke of Guise; they
would make an end of these Huguenots."
Several times I had to grasp Felix by the arms, and whisper to him to
control himself, since a brawl in the streets could end only in his
death and mine. A knowledge of fence is of little service against a mob
of ruffians armed with clubs and pikes.
Approaching the Marais we heard a tremendous hubbub, and running forward
quickly beheld a number of Huguenot gentlemen gathered outside the
_Hôtel de Guise_, waving their swords defiantly and threatening to have
justice done upon the Duke. De Pilles was at their head, and I expected
every moment to see him give the signal for an attack on the building.
Had he done so, he would have been instantly obeyed, and perhaps we
should not have had cause to mourn the horrors of the impending tragedy.
Instead of doing so, however, he suddenly exclaimed, "To the palace! We
will demand justice from the king; he cannot deny us!" and the
Huguenots, suspicious, alarmed and rapidly losing their heads, took up
the cry.
"To the palace!" they shouted; "let us see if Charles will give us
justice!"
Felix, as passionate and headstrong as any of them, exclaimed, "Come
along, Edmond; we shall count two more. Let us discover if there is any
honour in the man."
Not believing it could effect any good, I had no wish to be drawn into
the flighty venture, but as my comrade was resolute in courting danger I
was forced to accompany him.
The king was at supper when, flourishing our swords and demanding
justice, we burst into the palace. Charles behaved coolly enough, but
Anjou, who sat next to him, changed colour and trembled, while beads of
sweat stood upon his forehead.
"We demand justice, sire!" cried De Pilles, who cared no more for a
monarch than for a peasant. "If the king refuses it we will take the
matter into our own hands," and he looked at Anjou, who averted his
head.
"You will obtain justice, gentlemen," answered Charles. "My word is
pledged, and I will not break it. I have assured my friend, the noble
Coligny, that the villain who shot him shall be sought out and punished.
I will not spare the guilty parties whoever they are!"
At that we gave him a round of cheers, and marched out, De Pilles and
his followers returning straight to the city. L'Estang was not present,
but seeing one of Anjou's guards I asked if he could find my friend for
me, which he did.
"The palace is not a safe place for you to-night," said L'Estang as he
came to meet me.
"As safe as any part of the city," I answered. "It seems I did well in
taking your advice and sending my sister away. You have heard of this
morning's dastardly crime?"
"All Paris has heard of it," said he; "but pardon me if I say that
to-night's folly will not make the king's task any the easier."
"Surely you do not expect us to see our leader murdered without
protest!" exclaimed Felix.
"Not at all; but there is such a thing as being over hasty. It would
have paid better to show, or to appear to show, some trust in the king."
"Pshaw!" cried my comrade, "for all we know Charles himself is
responsible for the deed!"
"At all events," I said, "the plot must have been known beforehand in
the palace!"
"If you think that, because I warned you to remove your sister from
Paris, you are mistaken. Your surprise this morning was not greater than
my own. I believe that scarcely any one inside the palace knew of what
was going on."
"But you yourself expected trouble of some kind!"
"True; and now I am sure of it. How can it be avoided? Each side is
suspicious of the other: you are angry, and justly angry, at the assault
on your chief, and you threaten vengeance even on the king. I believe
he wishes to be your friend, and you are driving him into the arms of
your enemies. Do you fancy he will care to trust himself in your hands
after to-night's mad freak? But the hour grows late, and the streets are
not safe; I will walk a short distance with you."
"The citizens are still abroad!" I remarked after a time. "Listen! they
are cheering for Guise!"
"And there lies the trouble," he said. "But, monsieur, I have a private
word for you. Etienne Cordel is in Paris; he can read the signs as well
as most men, and if there is a disturbance he will take advantage of it.
You are doubly in danger--first as a Huguenot and a friend of Coligny's;
next as the owner of Le Blanc. You will have to steer skilfully to avoid
both dangers!"
"You speak as if a plot to murder the Huguenots were already afoot."
"I am aware of no plot at present," he said, "but after to-day's unlucky
events one can be sure of nothing. Here is the corner of your street; I
will bid you good-night, and once more I repeat my warning. Guard
yourself, and sleep with your sword at your hand."