THE Countess of Viteau now became very anxious to learn, as soon as
possible, the result of her embassy to the King, and she also wished her
sons to know where she was. She consulted with her squire, Bernard, in
regard to the matter; and they concluded that it would be better, if the
travelers brought bad news, and the young King had refused to interfere
in behalf of the Countess, that Raymond and Louis should know the place
of her refuge before any of their party could reach Barran's castle, and
that they should immediately join her, when, with them, she should fly
the country without delay or further consultation with any one.
She had determined at last that, if she should be obliged to leave her
country, she would take her boys with her, and let the Count de Barran
and her other friends do the best they could in regard to her estates.
She had money enough in her possession to provide for the expenses of a
journey to England, but she did not consider, when making her plans,
that the captain of the _cotereaux_ would require his claims paid before
he would let her go. Bernard thought of this, but he said nothing and
hoped for the best.
Michol also was quite anxious to know what had been done at Paris, for
the news would influence in a great degree the terms of his demands for
ransom money.
On the day after the attack of Comines had been repulsed, it was
considered that Count de Lannes and his party might be expected to be
nearing the end of their homeward journey, and it was determined to send
a page, accompanied by one of Michol's men, to intercept the travelers
and to convey a note to Raymond from his mother.
The main road from Paris through Burgundy ran within twelve or fifteen
miles of Viteau, and Count Hugo might therefore be met, while yet more
than half a day's journey from the castle.
The page's companion knew all the roads and by-ways of the surrounding
country, and they reached in good time the high road from Paris, but
after waiting there all day and making inquiries at various cottages
near by, they saw nothing and heard no news of the Count and his
company.
After dark they returned to Viteau, as they had been told to do, for it
was known that Count Hugo would not travel by night, and before daylight
the next morning they set out again.
The long watch of the previous day had wearied the restless soul of the
robber, and he declared to the page, as they rode along, that they would
have another day to wait upon the dusty highway, for he had been to
Paris and he knew how long it would take the Count's party to go and
return, and that they could not be reasonably expected that day.
"See you that cottage down there in the little glade below us?" he said
to the page, a little after sunrise. "There live an old woman and two
louts, her sons. They are poor creatures, but they make wine good enough
to sell; at least, a month or so ago, when I and a half-dozen of my
comrades stopped at their cottage to eat and rest, that is what they
told me they did with it. We found their wine good to drink,—which can
not be said of all wine that is good enough to sell,—and we drank many a
full horn of it, and what we did not drink we poured over her floor, so
that her house should smell of good cheer."
"That was a wasteful thing to do," said the page, "and must have cost
you a goodly sum."
"Cost us!" laughed the robber. "How could it cost us anything when we
had no money? And now, look you, we have more time than we shall know
what to do with, and I am going down there for some wine to cheer us
through the day. Ride you slowly on, and I will overtake you before you
have gone half a mile."
So saying, the robber turned from the road, and dashed down into the
glade. Reaching the cottage, he tied his horse by the door, and,
entering, demanded of the old woman, who was cooking something over a
little fire, that she should bring him some of her good wine, and plenty
of it, too, for he wanted some to drink and some to carry away.
The old woman looked at him for a moment, and then went out and brought
a jug of wine and a drinking-horn.
When the robber had sat down on a rough stool, and had begun to drink,
she went out for some wood for her fire. But instead of picking up dry
sticks, she ran to a small field where her sons were working.
"Come quickly!" she said. "One of the cowardly thieves who drank and
wasted our wine, a while ago, and struck me in the face when I asked for
pay, is in the cottage now, drinking and robbing us again. There were
many of them then, and you could do nothing. Now there is only one. Come
quickly!"
[Illustration: THE ROBBER IN THE OLD WOMAN'S COTTAGE.]
Without a word, the young men, still carrying the heavy hoes they had
been using, ran to the house, and rushing into the room where the robber
was still seated on his stool, engaged in drinking his second horn of
wine, they attacked him with their hoes.
The _coterel_ sprang from his seat, and drew the heavy sword which hung
at his belt, but, in an instant, it was knocked from his hand, and he
was belabored over the head and shoulders by the hoes of the angry young
peasants. If he had not worn an iron cap, which was his only piece of
armor, he probably would have been killed. As it was, he was glad to
plunge out of the door and run for the woods. The two young men pursued
him, but he was a faster runner than they, and his legs were not
injured. So, wounded and bruised, and very sorry that he had thought
about the old woman's wine, he left them behind, and disappeared among
the thick undergrowth of the neighboring forest. His pursuers returned
to the cottage and set loose the robber's horse.
"The wicked thief shall not creep back," they said, "to do us further
injury, and then jump on his horse and fly."
And they threw stones at the horse until he had galloped up to the road
and out of sight.
The page, who had been urged by his mistress to lose no time in reaching
the high road, for fear that her sons might pass before he got there,
rode on and on, looking back continually for his companion, but never
stopping. Reaching a place where they had made a short cut, the day
before, he tried to find it, got into the woods and lost his way. A
wood-cutter set him straight, but when he reached the Paris road, it was
long past noon, and he was dreadfully afraid that Count de Lannes's
party had gone by.
Inquiries of some peasants, who lived not far from the road, made him
almost sure that his fears were correct, for they had noticed two
companies of horsemen go by, and they thought that there were some young
people with one of them. Still, he waited and watched, and wondered why
the _coterel_ did not come, until nightfall, and then he set out to
return to Viteau. Without his robber companion,—whom, by the way, he
never saw again, for the fellow was afraid to return to his captain,
having lost his horse,—it was quite impossible for him to find his way
back in the dark, and in less than an hour he was hopelessly lost.
Finding no wood-cutter, or any one else, who could show him his way, he
wandered about until he and his horse were tired out, and then they
spent the rest of the night under a tree.
The page was quite right when he supposed that Count Hugo's party had
passed along the high road before he reached it. The travelers had
pressed on vigorously during their homeward journey, and meeting with no
hindrances,—of _brabancois_, or anything else,—they rode into the gates
of Barran's castle before nightfall of the day on which the page had
missed them.
As soon as they had entered the court-yard, the two boys sprang from
their horses and ran to the great door of the castle. But here they were
met by the Count de Barran, who, with outstretched arms, stopped them as
they were hurrying to their mother's apartments, and, as gently as he
could, told them,—with Agnes and her father, who had now come up,—the
story of the visit of the Inquisitors and the flight of the Countess.
The poor boys were almost overcome by this entirely unlooked-for and
dreadful news. They had hurried back, excited and happy with the good
tidings they were bringing their mother, only to find that she had
utterly disappeared, and no one could tell them whether she was safe, or
had fallen into the hands of her persecutors. Louis burst into tears,
and fell on the neck of his brother, who folded him in his arms, and,
without a word, the two boys stumbled up the stairs, and were seen no
more that night.
Early the next morning, Raymond and Louis, still with pale and
tear-stained faces, but unable to remain quiet any longer, came down to
the stables, and, ordering two horses to be saddled, mounted them, and
rode away to look for their mother.
If any of their elders had known of their intention, they would not have
been allowed to go. This they well knew, and so they hurried away before
any one but the servants of the castle was awake. They felt that they
hated the Count de Barran for having let their mother go away, without
knowing where she could be found or heard from, and they wished to have
nothing more to do with him. And they had come to the belief that no one
but themselves could do anything for their mother now, and that they
must ride the whole world over until they had found her.
Each was armed with sword and dagger, and they had some money with them
to buy food. As to plans, they had made only one, and that was to ride
so far that day that Barran would not be likely to find them and bring
them back; and then they would make inquiries, and come to some decision
as to which direction they should go in their mournful search.
The sun was about two hours' high, and they had ridden quite a long
distance, when they saw coming toward them on the road a boy upon a
horse. In a moment they recognized their mother's page, and he as soon
knew them. The three young fellows rushed together, and began
clamorously to ask questions. The page being only one against two was
soon obliged to surrender in this question conflict, and to give answers
to his eager young masters.
When Raymond and Louis heard that their mother was at Viteau, they asked
nothing more, but giving a shout of joy, turned their horses' heads
toward their old home, for they were on a road leading directly thereto,
which the page had at last found.
Onward and onward the three galloped, much to the weariness of their
poor horses, and some hours before nightfall they reached Viteau, where
they were readily admitted by Michol, who gave Raymond and Louis even a
more eager welcome than that with which he had opened the gates to their
mother.
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