MY PRISONER
We left Poitiers by the Porte de Rochereuil, as I had no mind to be
shut within the angle between the Clain and the Vienne, whence escape
would be a difficult matter if trouble arose. Whilst crossing the
bridge my eyes fell on a rock on the opposite bank of the river which
commanded the faubourg, and even held in check the old fortress of Jean
de Berri, which guarded the junction of the Clain and Boivre on our
left. I made a mental note of this, and years after I was to use this
knowledge to some purpose when I stood by Coligny's side before
Poitiers.
I had sent forward two of my men, with instructions to make
arrangements for our accommodation for the night at Les Barres. I
deemed it inadvisable to go on to Châtellerault, and Les Barres was a
convenient halting-place, as there was no moon now, and there could be
little travelling after sundown. Moreover, I wished to spare my charge
as much as possible.
For these reasons we travelled at an easy pace, mademoiselle riding by
herself a few yards ahead, for I confess that after a few civil words
had passed between us I had taken the opportunity to fall back. This I
did under pretence of giving instructions to Pierrebon, though I never
spoke a word to him. Frankly, I was in a state that made me bad
company, and I desired to be alone. The face of De Ganache seemed ever
to be between me and Diane, and I morosely kept to myself, envying the
lot of Adam, who was the only man who never had a rival, torturing
myself, as is the custom with lovers, with a thousand suspicions, and
cursing myself for a fool in having undertaken this task.
Nevertheless, I am sure, such is the frailty of man, that were it to be
all over again I would do in this matter all I had done before.
In fact, I was grasping the truth of what I had often laughed at--that
there is none so skilled in making dragons out of beetles as the man
who is in love and knows not if he is winning or losing.
We kept to the left bank of the Clain, taking a track that led over a
sad and barren plain, once the garden of France. Except immediately
around the city and the few hamlets we passed there was scarce a crop
to be seen, and but for an abandoned vineyard, or here and there a
solitary tree, brooding like a mourner over the dead, all was a dreary
waste. There was little or no sign of life on this sullen and
melancholy landscape. Occasionally we met a peasant making his way to
some half-ruined hamlet, and driving before him a flock of geese with
the aid of a long stick, to one end of which he had tied a plume of
rags. At sight of us he, as a rule, left his birds to take care of
themselves, and vanished like a rabbit into one of the ravines that
cross and recross the plain in a network. And this was the King's
peace in Poitou!
My troopers rode stolidly on, taking turns with the led horse, and now
and again exchanging a word with each other. Pierrebon followed behind
them, whistling the "Rappel d'Aunis." I kept to myself, as I have
said, full of sombre thoughts, but watching mademoiselle as she rode
about twenty paces or so in front of me. She never turned her head,
but I observed that she was scanning the country on either side
carefully.
Beyond Chasseneuil is a wide plain, and the track here meets the road
to Thouars. I was looking at the slender spire of Miribeau, which
stood out against the rising ground that stretched towards Lencloître
and beyond, when I was startled by the sudden galloping of a horse. It
was mademoiselle, who had turned sharply to the left, and was urging
her horse at full speed towards Miribeau. We reined up amidst
exclamations from the men; and the fugitive, who had got a fair
distance off by this, looked back and laughed at us. It was a brave
attempt at escape, and she evidently felt sure of her horse; but I had
a mind to try the mettle of Montluc's gift to me, and so I told the men
to go on quietly, and then, turning Lizette, followed Diane at an easy
canter. As I did so, and felt the power of the long, swinging stride
beneath me I smiled to myself whilst I watched the little Norman my
charge rode stretching himself like a greyhound. Once more Diane
looked back; and then I accepted the challenge, and gave the dun a free
rein.
The country here was a wide horseshoe-shaped plain, fringed with a
network of ravines, and rising gently towards Lencloître. It was for
the most part barren, but at intervals there were long brown and green
patches of broom, the yellow tufts swaying in the breeze. Here and
there the late rain had left pools of water, flashing like mirrors in
the sunlight; and away to the north-west, in dark green and grey
against the sky, stretched the undulating lands of higher Poitou. Far
in front of me mademoiselle rode, the white feathers in her hat
fluttering like a bird, and little puffs of dust rising beneath her
horse's hoofs. For a moment I thought she had made good her word to
Montluc--but for a moment only. Sarlaboux was right when he said I had
chosen the best horse in Poitou. She was more than that--she was one
of the best horses in France, and only once was she ever beaten, but it
was not on this occasion. As she raced along the green of the broom,
the flashing lights on the pools, and the white plain, all seemed to
mingle in a grey haze. Soon I could make out more than a white plume
and a cloud of dust before me. Yard by yard we crept up; and then
mademoiselle heard the beat of following hoofs, and called to her
horse, and the brave beast replied gallantly. But there was little
use. He was no match for the big dun mare, and at last there was one
effort more, and I was by Diane's side.
"This is not the road, mademoiselle!" I cried; but for answer she
struck her beast with her whip, and then I laughed cheerfully, and our
glances met. It was enough, and in a few yards she had reined up, and
the little horse she rode, still full of fire, was pawing the earth,
and switching his foam-flecked sides with his tail, whilst Diane was
looking at me with tightened lip and a flush on her cheeks.
It was not for me to upbraid or to openly say that I had realised she
had attempted to escape, and so I contented myself by remarking drily
that the plain beyond was unsafe, and that there was better ground on
the road to Les Barres.
"I presume, monsieur, it is for that reason we have been travelling
like snails? Ah! it is fine there." And she waved her hand in the
direction of Miribeau as she asked: "Why not go back to your men,
Monsieur Broussel, and leave me an hour of freedom?"
"You are hard on your escort, mademoiselle," I smiled; "and besides, I
took your look back as a challenge for a race. 'Tis a good little
horse you ride."
"It belongs to M. de Ganache," she answered, and I bit my lip. It
seemed as if I could never be free of De Ganache; but, steadying
myself, I pointed to our men, filing along the white track like ants in
the distance.
"It is fair going, as we know, mademoiselle, back to the road. What
say you to a gallop there?"
She accepted the check she had received with a good grace, and turning
her horse raced back with the recklessness of youth. On this occasion
I took care that Lizette should not be first, and when we rejoined our
party Diane pointed at the mare with her whip as she laughed, for she
had recovered her temper.
"I see now I should not have stopped when I did. Another mile and that
big, dust-coloured thing would have been yards and yards behind; would
she not, Rollo?" And she bent forward and caressed the Norman's sleek
neck. I did not contradict her statement, but contented myself by
saying humbly that there could be no comparison between the two horses.
"I am glad you realise that, monsieur; and we will have another
race--soon, I hope."
"In that case, mademoiselle, I will not stake anything, for I am
certain which horse will win." And with these words I was dropping
back once more to my old place when she stayed me, asking why I did not
ride by her side.
"I feared to intrude, mademoiselle; it is no longer the furrier's niece
I escort."
She turned red. "Ah, monsieur, I am ashamed of my deceit; but there
are things I cannot explain now that forced me to play a part."
"Let the matter rest, mademoiselle."
"I know I must have seemed ungrateful when I left you as I did; but
believe me, monsieur, I can never forget the brave man who risked his
life for me." And she held out her gloved hand, allowing it to rest in
mine for a moment ere she withdrew it gently.
"I did what anyone else would have done. Perhaps, however, you would
like to hear that I have made such arrangements as could be made for
your dead servant."
"It is like you, monsieur, to remember that." And then there was a
silence. After a little she asked almost timidly:
"Monsieur, amongst the prisoners taken by M. de Montluc was the Vicomte
de Ganache. I have not been able to hear news of him, and I would give
much to know----"
It was ever thus: De Ganache was ever first; and I answered, without
letting her complete her speech:
"M. de Ganache is no longer a prisoner; he was freed by Montluc this
morning."
"Freed! Are you sure?"
"Sure as I ride here. I saw him leave Poitiers in safety."
"It is almost incredible. And yet----"
"It is true, mademoiselle. M. de Ganache is known to me, and I had
speech with him before he left. He is free, I assure you."
"It is, indeed, good news, monsieur." And she looked at me, her face
all brightness, as she continued, with a little laugh: "M. de Montluc
is, I see, more generous to men than to women."
At this juncture our speech was cut short, as from out of the ravine
before us into which the road dipped there suddenly emerged one of the
troopers I had sent on ahead. As the man came galloping up to us I
thought at first that he bore ill tidings, but it turned out that he
had ridden back to give me news of the accommodations at Les Barres.
"I have arranged, monsieur, at the sign of the Slain Leopard, where
things are as good as can be expected. There is room enough, as there
are no other guests but one. I have left Capus to see that everything
is ready."
Thanking the man, who fell back, we pushed on at the trot, for it was
now approaching sunset. Whilst passing La Tricherie I halted for a
moment to show mademoiselle the ruins of Baudimont, and pointed out to
her, in the distance on our right, the field of Moussaisla-Bataille,
where Charles the Hammer broke the Saracen advance for ever.
We were now but a little distance from Les Barres, and could already
see the roofs of the village and the square tower of the church, all
alight with the sunset. As we came closer we heard the melancholy
chimes of the _couvre feu_, followed by the barking of dogs, and a few
minutes later we reached the hostel.
Les Barres itself was an oasis in the desert around us. It lay
nestling amidst groves of walnuts, and a singular chance had spared it
from the evils around. As for the hostel itself, that lay far back in
a trim garden, and the quaint signboard, whereon was pictured a dead
leopard on a blue field--a memory of the last days of the hundred
years' war--swung triumphantly between two poles near the gate.
As we filed in my charge went into feminine raptures over the beauty of
the garden, with its wealth of roses; and, indeed, it was such a spot
as might have been chosen for a lovers' retreat. The interior of the
inn corresponded with its old-world exterior; and the host, being
forewarned, had supper in readiness, and preparations made for
mademoiselle's comfort. I already had some experience of my fair
charge's capacity and resource, and I was determined, for her sake, to
carry out my promise to Montluc. Therefore, when mademoiselle's
baggage had been carried to her chamber and she herself had retired for
a space, I took the opportunity to warn my men to keep on the alert. I
reminded them that their reward would be in proportion to their
services; but they were old soldiers, who knew their duty, and nothing
more need be said of this. Pierrebon I told off specially to keep an
eye on the other guest--whom we had not seen--and then took a general
survey of the house as far as it was possible. With the exception of
the offices and one or two rooms, the greater portion of the lower
floor consisted of one large room, half across the middle of which a
stairway led to the upper floor. It seemed to me the only passage
above, and whilst I was looking at it, the landlord happening to pass,
I asked if this were so, and he replied: "Yes."
"You could be very easily cut off, then."
He shrugged his lean shoulders. "As easily as if we had ten ways,
monsieur."
"You are lucky to have escaped so far."
"Oh, monsieur, we are poor people, and not worth pillaging, and the
Vicomte has always been good to us."
"The Vicomte?"
"Yes, monsieur--the Vicomte de Ganache. He is Seigneur of Les Barres."
"I begin to understand; but I suppose you have heard that things have
gone hard against M. de Ganache?"
He wrung his hands, and with a word of encouragement to him I changed
the subject, and asked about the other guest. The landlord, however,
professed utter ignorance of him.
"He came this morning, monsieur, and, as far as I know, goes to-morrow.
He is alone, and seems poorly provided with money--and this is all I
know."
There was nothing further to be done, though I had learned some things
of value. As the night was warm I stepped out into the garden. It was
dark, and the stars were out. High above me a light was burning
faintly in a dormer window, on one side of which there was a wooden
gallery overlooking the garden, and on this two figures were standing.
It was too dark to see; but one was a woman, I was sure, and I was
sure, too, it was mademoiselle.
For a moment I was tempted to creep beneath the balcony and---- But I
put the thought aside, with a curse at myself, and turning went
brooding down the garden, wondering how all this would end for me.
Enough! I would do my duty--place her in the Queen's hands--and then
see what Italy could do for Orrain.
A step on the gravel path, and a dark figure came face to face with me.
It was Capus, the oldest and most trusty of my troopers.
"I take the first watch, monsieur," he whispered, and passed on.
Up and down I paced for a little, and at last I heard mademoiselle's
voice. She had come down, and I went back into the house.