WHEN Captain Michol heard of the fate of the letter,—and there could be
no doubt as to what that fate was, for the pig was found rooting around
the spot where the parchment had been left, evidently searching for
something else good to eat,—he was very angry. He knew that there was no
more parchment in the camp, nor anything else on which a proper letter
could be written, and he did not know when or where he could procure any
material of the kind. He had made all his arrangements to send the
letter, which had now been too long delayed, to Viteau the next day; and
this disappointment enraged him very much. He ordered Jasto's pig to be
instantly slaughtered, and he told Louis that he would cut off one of
his ears and send that to his mother, and then, if a handsome ransom did
not soon arrive, he would cut off the other one and send it also.
Whether or not the Captain was in earnest in making this threat is not
to be known; but it frightened Louis greatly, and he determined that the
morning should not find him in the power of a man who would do such
terrible things, and he made up his mind to escape that night, no matter
what might afterward happen to him.
Accordingly, when Jasto was fast asleep, poor little Louis slipped
quietly past him and made his way into the forest. He pushed blindly
through the thickets and undergrowth, not knowing in what direction he
was going—only anxious to get away as far as possible from the cruel
Captain. It was very dark, and he frequently came violently against a
tree, or stumbled over tangled vines and bushes, scratching his hands
and face and bruising his body; but he still pressed on, wherever he
could push himself through the bushes. When daylight should appear he
hoped to be able to make his way to the high road, and, once there, he
felt sure he could walk to Viteau.
But, after hours of toilsome and painful struggling through the pathless
underbrush, he found that, even by the increasing light, he could not
discover, although he searched diligently, any sign or indication of a
passage through the thicket. He even climbed a tree, but could see
nothing except trees and bushes—the latter extending, in what seemed
like impenetrable masses, in every direction.
Almost tired to death, he sat down at the foot of the tree he had
climbed, and in a few minutes was fast asleep. He slept for hours, and
it was after noon when he was awakened by some one laughing very close
to him.
Louis opened his eyes with a start, and there was Jasto, who at that
moment laughed again. The boy sprang up with a cry, and was about to
plunge into the bushes, but the robber seized him by the arm.
"No, no, my good Sir Page," said Jasto. "Don't lead me over any more
such wretched ways as you have led me this morning. I've had enough of
them."
"Oh, Jasto!" cried Louis, "you are not going to take me back?"
"I don't know," said the robber, "what I shall do with you, but I
certainly shall not take you back the way you came. Where you crept
under the bushes, I had to break through them. I never saw such a fellow
for hiding. How do you suppose I found you?"
"I don't know," said Louis.
"I found you," said Jasto, "by not looking for you. The rest of our
men—and nearly all of them turned out to search for you, when we found
you had run away—scattered themselves about in all directions, to see if
they could catch a glimpse of _you_. I did nothing of that kind. I knew
that if a boy like you were to crouch under a thick bush, I could not
see him. So I looked for little bits of blue silk from a pair of trunk
hose, and little shreds of purple cloth from a tunic that I knew of. I
saw a bit of the silk on some briers when I started out, and I knew I
should find more. I lost your track many times, but every now and then a
bit of rag on a thorn would encourage me; and so, at last, I came up to
the gallant young page who was marking his way with pieces of silk and
costly cloth. It made me laugh to think how truly these rags had led me
to him."
"I am glad, Jasto," said Louis, "that you found me, and not one of the
other men. I don't believe you will make me go back to the Captain to
have one of my ears cut off. You will show me the way to go home, and I
promise you, if you will do that, that my mother will send you a good
sum of money, quite as much as she would have sent to the Captain if she
had got my letter and had ransomed me."
"I am not sure about that," said Jasto, "but I have been thinking over
the matter, and it may be that I shall not take you back to our camp. I
have a kindly feeling for you, Sir Page. First, because I think you are
a lad of spirit, as I used to be; and second, because my pig ate your
letter, and so brought your trouble on you. Therefore, I feel bounden to
help you out of it. But, if I send you to your mother, she may forget my
sole share in your rescue and return, and may send the ransom-money to
our company, when it will be so divided and shared, and measured into
parts, that I shall get very little of it. So I think I shall take you
to your mother, and then I shall get all the ransom myself, and not be
obliged to share it with any one. And I am sure the good lady, your
mother, will give more to him who brings you back than to him who has
merely carried you away."
"Indeed would she!" cried Louis, more than delighted at the prospect of
being taken directly to his home.
"Well, then," said Jasto, "take you this piece of bread, which I put in
my pocket before I set out this morning, and when you have eaten it, you
will be strong enough, mayhap, to go on to your mother's chateau, though
it is still a good distance from here; and I promise you that I shall
not lead you through such rough ways as you led me. But we must be
careful, for, if we meet any of my good comrades, there will be an end
of our plan."
When Louis had finished eating,—and, coarse and hard as the bread was,
he devoured every morsel, for it was his breakfast and his dinner,—the
two started off for Viteau. Louis supposed that they would try to reach
the main road as soon as possible; but Jasto assured him that he had no
idea of doing that, for the woods would be occupied, at various points
along the road, by the _cotereaux_, who would expect the fugitive boy to
take the highway as soon as he could find it. Instead of that, Jasto
intended to slyly make his way, through the woods, to the nearest point
to Viteau, and then to strike across the country to the chateau.
Jasto was an expert and experienced woodsman, and he found paths where
Louis would never have imagined they could exist; and with great care
and caution, and frequent halts for outlook and listening, he led the
boy through the devious mazes of the forest, without meeting one of his
comrades. About dark they reached the edge of the forest, and then they
cautiously made their way to the chateau, where they arrived late in the
night.
It would be hard to express the consternation of Louis—and that of Jasto
was almost as great—at finding that the Countess had gone away; that
Barran had been there that day, returning from a search for his lost
page, but had almost immediately set out for his castle, and that a body
of strange men, accompanied by priests, had been searching the house for
his mother only the night before.
Poor Louis, who could not imagine what all this meant, and who was
bewildered and astounded at seeing the happy home he had always known
deserted by every one excepting the seneschal and a few servants,
desired nothing so much as to go immediately to his mother. But this
Jasto would not have allowed, had it been possible, for the boy was
nearly exhausted by fatigue and want of food. After some supper had been
prepared for the two travelers, and Louis had eaten as much as Jasto
thought good for him, the robber accompanied his young companion to the
room he had been used to occupy with his brother Raymond, and, after
seeing him safely in bed, lay down on the floor across the door-way, and
went to sleep himself. It was evident that he intended to take good care
that Louis should not leave him this time until he had conducted him
into his mother's presence.
The seneschal was rather surprised at the actions of this man, who
announced himself as a friend to the boy, and one who had saved him from
the robbers who had captured him; but, as he and Louis seemed on very
friendly terms, the old man made no objection to anything that Jasto
said or did.
In the morning, Louis insisted upon an early start for Barran's castle;
but, although Jasto was now perfectly willing to go, he was afraid to do
so, for there was no other road but the one which led through the woods,
and on that he certainly would be seen by some of the _cotereaux_, who
would keep the road under constant watch. To make his way with the boy
through the woods on the west of the road would be almost impossible,
for he was not familiar with that part of the forest, and did not know
the paths; and Louis would of a certainty be tired out long before he
could reach the castle, which was distant almost a day's journey for a
horse.
But fortune favored him, for, after he had spent most of the day in
endeavoring to impress these things on the mind of the impatient Louis,
and in making efforts to find some one who would be willing to go to the
castle and inform the Countess of her son's arrival at Viteau, there
came to the chateau a party of horsemen who had been sent by Barran to
see if anything had been heard from the boy at his home, the party in
the eastern woods, having, so far, met no traces of his captors.
The course was now easy enough, and the next day Barran's men set out
for the castle, taking with them the happy Louis and Jasto, who felt no
fear of capture by his former comrades now that he was escorted by a
body of well-armed men.
The scene at the castle, when Louis arrived was a joyous one. The
Countess forgot all her troubles and fears about herself, in her great
happiness for the return of her son; and even Raymond ceased to think,
for a time, of his mother's danger, so glad was he to see his dear
brother again. Every one at the castle, indeed, was in a state of great
delight, for Louis was a general favorite, and few persons had expected
to see him again.
Among the most joyful of his welcomers was Agnes. She listened to his
story with the greatest eagerness, and, when he began to lament that he
had lost her horse, she exclaimed:
"We don't think much about horses, my father and I, when we are afraid
that we have lost boys. It is easy enough to get another Jennet, and,
before many years, this one would have been too small for me. Do you
think he is in a comfortable place?"
"I don't know," answered Louis. "I did not see where they took him."
"At any rate," said the girl, promptly, "the thieves can not ride him in
the forest, and so he will not be worn out by hard work. But we won't
talk about him any more. And your brother's new falcon is gone, too, I
suppose."
"Oh, yes," said Louis, ruefully. "But he will not grieve about that, for
he did not know he was going to have one. I thought of that a good many
times, when I was among the robbers. If he had been expecting it, things
would have been a great deal worse than they are now."
"Of course he did not expect the bird," said the girl, "but he knows you
have lost it, for everybody was told that it was to carry him a new
falcon that you left the castle. But he never will scold you for not
bringing it, and so we need not say anything more about it. But he must
wonder that you were bringing him a falcon; for how could you know he
had none, when you left your mother's house before anything was said
about his bird having been lost? He must suspect you had something to do
with it."
"Of course he does," said poor Louis. "I intended to tell him all about
it when I should give him the new falcon; but it will be harder to do it
now."
"Don't you say a word about it," said Agnes, who was really a
kind-hearted girl, although she liked to talk about everything that was
on her mind. "I'll tell him myself. It will be easy enough for me to do
it, and I can tell him better than you can, anyway."
She did tell Raymond all about it, dwelling with much earnestness on
Louis's sorrow for his fault, and his great desire to make amends for
it; but she found that Raymond cared very little about falcons. His mind
was occupied with weightier matters.
[Illustration: THE COUNTESS SENT FOR JASTO AND THANKED HIM WARMLY.]
"Louis is a good fellow and a true one," he said, "although he often
plays wild pranks, and the only reason I am sorry that he lost my bird
is that it caused him such danger, and all of us such grief."
"I like Louis better than Raymond," said Agnes to herself. "Raymond
talks so much like a man, and he isn't half so glad as he ought to be,
now that his brother is saved from those dreadful robbers. If I were in
his place, I'd be singing and dancing all the time."
The Countess sent for Jasto, and thanked him warmly and earnestly for
bringing her son to her, instead of taking him back to the _cotereaux_.
"If I could do it now," she said, "I should reward you handsomely for
what you have done for me; but, as I left my chateau for this place very
suddenly, I have no money with me. However, as soon as I shall have
opportunity to send for some, I shall more than pay you for the trouble
you have taken. Meantime, as your conduct shows that you wish to leave
your companions and give up your evil ways, you can remain here, and I
shall see that you receive fair treatment and are well employed." And
then, with a few more gracious words, she dismissed him.
This was all very pleasant, for the Countess spoke so sweetly and looked
so good that it greatly gratified Jasto to have her talk to him so
kindly, and thank him for what he had done; but still he was not
satisfied. He had expected to make a regular bargain about a ransom, and
hoped that Louis would have told his mother how much Michol was going to
charge for his return; but he found the boy had never mentioned the
matter, and he did not feel bold enough, in his first interview with the
Countess, to do it himself. He knew that he would be rewarded, but he
felt sure that a lady would have no idea of the proper sum to pay for a
page's ransom. If the pig had not eaten the letter her son had written,
she would have been astonished indeed. He would wait, and, when the
proper time came, he would let it be known that he expected ransom-money
just as much as if he had kept the boy in some secret spot, and had made
his mother send the sum required before her son was restored to her.
Meanwhile, he was perfectly willing to remain in the service of the good
Countess, and the first thing he asked for was a suit of clothes not
composed of patches sewn together with bright-red silk. And that he
received without delay.
Now that Louis was safe at the castle, the minds of the Countess and her
friends were occupied with the great question of her safety. It was not
to be expected that the officers of the Inquisition would give up their
attempts to arrest the lady; and although Barran's castle and Barran's
forces might be strong enough to hold her securely and to drive back her
persecutors, a contest of this kind with the Church was something not to
be desired by the Count nor by his friends. Barran and Lanne were both
of the opinion that the safest refuge for the Countess would be England;
but a secret journey there would be full of hardships, and might compel
her to give up all her property, and to be separated from her sons.
It was hard to decide what to do, and at any day the officers of the
Inquisition might appear at the gates of the castle.
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