IT must not be supposed that the officers of the Inquisition and the
monks of the monastery which, as has been mentioned before, stood a few
miles from Viteau, were all this time ignorant of the fact that, when
the Countess of Viteau fled from her home, she took refuge in the castle
of the Count de Barran.
It was not many days before this was known at the monastery. But the
officers had returned to Toulouse to report their failure to secure the
person for whom they had been sent; and the monk who was dispatched with
the information that the Countess had not fled the country, as was at
first supposed, but had taken refuge within a day's ride of Viteau, had
a long journey to make to the south of France; while the party which was
immediately dispatched by the Inquisition to the castle of Barran had a
long journey to make back to him.
But it finally came, and it was a different party from that which had
been sent before. It was larger; it contained many more armed men, and
it was under the control of a leader who would not give up the pursuit
of the Countess simply because he should fail to find her in the first
place in which he sought her.
About the time that the Count de Lannes and our young friends entered
Paris, the expedition from the Inquisition at Toulouse reached the great
gate of the castle of Barran.
This visit threw the Count, and those of his household who understood
its import, into a state of despair almost as great as if it had not
been daily feared and expected ever since the Countess had come to the
castle.
The Count did not know what to do. He had thought the matter over and
over, but had never been able to make up his mind as to what his course
would be in case the officers should appear while the Countess remained
in his castle. He felt that he could not give up this lady, the wife of
his old brother-in-arms, who had come to him for protection; but he
could not fight the company that was now approaching, for such an act
would have been considered the same thing as fighting Christianity
itself.
He was in a sad state of anxiety as he went to the gate to meet, in
person, these most unwelcome visitors; and he wished many times, as he
crossed the court-yard, that he had yielded to his first impulse and had
insisted that the Countess should fly to England while there was yet
time.
All that the Count de Barran could do was to detain the officers as long
as possible at the gate, and to endeavor to induce them to consent to a
friendly council before taking any steps to arrest the Countess. If they
would do this, he hoped to prevail upon them to remain at the castle,
with the lady really under their watch and guard, until news should
arrive from Paris.
But the good squire Bernard acted in a very different way. He did not
believe in parleying, nor in councils. Ever since he had come to the
castle he had expected this visit, and he had always been ready for it.
In five minutes from the time that he had seen the officials approaching
the castle,—and his sharp eyes had quickly told him who they were,—the
Countess and her women, the squire himself, and the men-at-arms who had
come with them from Viteau, were in their saddles; and, leaving the
castle by a lower gate, were galloping along a forest road as fast as
their horses' legs would carry them.
The leader of the party from the Inquisition would not parley, and he
would listen to no talk of councils. He showed his credentials, and
demanded instant entrance; and as soon as he was inside the court-yard,
he posted some of his men at every gate.
If the men at the lower gate had put their ears to the ground, they
might have heard the thud of horses' feet as the Countess and her party
hurried away into the depths of the forest.
The main body of the officers then entered the castle, and the leader
demanded to be conducted to the Countess of Viteau. The Count de Barran
did not accompany him and his men as they mounted the stairs, but,
downcast and wretched, he shut himself in a lower room.
In a very short time, however, the sound of running footsteps and a
general noise and confusion brought him quickly into the great hall, and
there he learned that the Countess was not in her apartments, and that
the Inquisitors were looking for her all over the castle. He instantly
imagined the truth, and a little inquiry among his people showed him
that he was right, and that the Countess had been carried off by
Bernard.
"A trusty and noble fellow!" said Barran to himself, almost laughing
with delight at this sudden change in the state of affairs. "But what
will he do? So small a party, unprepared for a long journey, could not
get out of the country, and these people here, as soon as they find that
the Countess has really gone, will make pursuit in every direction. And
if they overtake her it will be all the worse for the poor, poor lady."
Barran was right. When the Inquisitors had made a rapid but thorough
search of the castle, and when the angry leader had examined some of the
servants and had become convinced that the Countess had again fled,
almost from under the very hands of her pursuers, he sent out parties of
his horsemen on every road leading from the castle, with orders to
thoroughly search the surrounding country, and to make all possible
inquiries of persons by whom the fugitives might have been seen. The
leader himself remained at the castle, to receive reports and to send
out fresh horsemen in any direction which might seem necessary. It was
impossible that a lady like the Countess could have the strength and
endurance to ride so far that his tough and sturdy men-at-arms could not
overtake her. And if she took refuge in any house, castle, or cottage,
he would be sure to find her.
The party of soldiers which left the lower gate of the castle and took
the road through the forest were mounted on swift, strong horses, and
the Countess and her company were only a few miles ahead of them.
The squire Bernard did not keep long upon the road he had first taken.
He knew that the officers would probably pursue him this time, and he
had seen that their body was composed of many well-mounted men. So he
felt that he must bring into play, not only the fleetness of his horses,
but his knowledge of the country, if he hoped to escape the soldiers who
would be sent after him.
Bernard did know the country very well. He had been born in this part of
Burgundy, and had, in youth and manhood, thoroughly explored these
forests, not only after deer and other game, but in expeditions with his
master and Barran against parties of _cotereaux_ and other thieves who
at various times had been giving trouble in the neighborhood.
About four miles from the castle Bernard turned sharply to the left, and
rode into what, in the rapidly decreasing daylight, the Countess thought
to be the unbroken forest. But it was in reality a footway wide enough
for a horse and rider, and along this narrow path, in single file, the
party pursued its way almost as rapidly as on the open road.
They had been riding northward; now they turned to the west, and in a
half hour or so they turned again, and went southward, through a road
which, though overgrown and apparently disused, was open and wide enough
for most of its length to allow two persons to ride abreast.
[Illustration: THE FLIGHT OF THE COUNTESS.]
They went more slowly now, for it was quite dark; but the squire led the
way, and they kept steadily on all night.
At daybreak they reached what seemed to be the edge of the wood, and
Bernard ordered a halt. Bidding the rest of the company remain concealed
among the trees, he dismounted and cautiously made his way out of the
forest.
Creeping along for a short distance into the open country, he mounted a
little hill and carefully surveyed the surrounding fields and plains.
Feeling certain that none of their enemies were near at hand in the flat
country before them, Bernard went back to the woods, got on his horse,
and, turning to the Countess, he said:
"Now, my lady, we must make a rapid dash, and in a quarter of an hour we
shall be at our journey's end."
Without a word the Countess—who had put herself entirely into her
faithful squire's care, and who had found early in the ride that he
wished to avoid answering any questions in regard to their
destination—followed Bernard out of the forest, and the whole party
began a wild gallop across the fields.
For a few minutes they rode in silence, as they had been riding for the
greater part of the night, and then the Countess suddenly called out:
"Bernard! Oh, Bernard! Where are we going? That is Viteau!"
"Yes," shouted back the squire. "That is Viteau, and, by your leave, we
are going there. For you, it is the safest place in France."
"But the _cotereaux_! The _cotereaux_!" cried the Countess. "It is
filled with those wicked men!"
"I hope it is yet filled with _cotereaux_," cried the squire, still
galloping on; "for it is those fellows who will make it safe for you.
Fear them not, fair lady. They want only your money, and as long as they
have a good hope of that they will not harm you nor yield you up to any
claimant."
The Countess answered not a word; but very pale, and trembling a little,
she rode on, and in a very short time the party drew up before the great
gate of Viteau.
"Open!" cried Bernard, "open to the Countess of Viteau!"
Receiving no immediate answer, Bernard shouted again:
"Open! Open quickly! It is the lady of this chateau who asks admittance.
She is pursued! Open quickly!"
There was now heard inside a sound of running and calling, and in a few
minutes the head of Michol appeared at the window in the gate.
Perceiving that his visitors were but three ladies and half a dozen men,
all looking very tired and anxious to enter, and recognizing Bernard,
whom he had seen several times and with whose position in the household
of Viteau he was quite familiar, he concluded that he could run no risk,
and might do himself much good, by admitting the little party; and he
therefore ordered the gate to be opened and bade the Countess ride in.
The moment the fugitives had entered the court, and the gate had been
closed behind them, Bernard sprang from his horse exclaiming:
"Now, at last, I can breathe at ease."
The Countess, although a good deal frightened at her peculiar situation,
could not help smiling at this speech, considering that they were
surrounded by a great crowd of armed men, known to have in their number
some of the most notorious robbers in the country, and who were crowding
into the court to see the visitors, although keeping, by command of
their captain, at a respectful distance.
Bernard now approached Michol, and with the utmost frankness, concealing
nothing, he told him all about the troubles of the Countess and why she
had fled to his protection.
"As your object," said the squire, "is the payment of the ransom, for
which you have taken this chateau as security, you will not wish to
injure that lady by whom you expect the money to be collected and paid.
And, if I mistake not, until the ransom is paid to you, you will not
allow that lady to be taken out of your possession and keeping."
"You are a shrewd man, and a knowing one," said Michol, with a smile,
"and have judged my temper well. And yet," he said, lowering his voice,
"you must have terribly feared those Inquisitors, to bring that lady
here."
"Fear them!" said the squire in a voice still lower than the captain's.
"Indeed did I fear them. Do you know that they would begin her trial
with the torture?"
Even the rough bandit gave a little shudder as he heard these words, and
looked at the gentle lady before him.
[Illustration: MICHOL WELCOMES THE COUNTESS.]
Advancing to her, and removing the steel cap he wore, he said:
"Fair lady, you are welcome, as far as I have power to bid you welcome,
to this chateau. Your apartments have not been molested nor disturbed,
and you can take immediate possession of them, with your attendants. And
you may feel assured that here you may rest in safety from all attacks
of enemies of any sort, unless they come in numbers sufficient to
overcome my men and carry these strong defenses. And I promise you that
when the matters of ransom shall be settled between us, I and my men
will march away from your estates, leaving no damage nor injury behind
us, excepting your loss of what we have consumed and used for our
support and defense."
"Impudent varlet!" said Bernard to himself. "Your hungry rascals have
fattened on the possessions of the Countess, and yet you talk in a tone
as large and generous as if you gave to her what was your own."
"Sir," said the Countess to Michol, "I accept your offer of protection
until I receive tidings of some sort from my lord the King."
"You shall certainly have it, fair dame," said Michol. "My men and I
will never stand and be robbed, be the robber who he may."
The Countess bowed her head, and, without having heard all of this
remark, rode up to the chateau and entered with her party.
------------------------------------------------------------------------