When Roberval returned to his castle, and the great iron gates flew back
to admit him, he was amazed to see, standing in the courtyard, the
stalwart form of La Pommeraye. He knew that the young man had gone to
Canada, and he had hoped that the New World, which had swallowed up so
many valiant Frenchmen, would have found him a grave. For a moment he
could find no words to address his enemy--for as such he now saw from
his defiant mien that La Pommeraye had come. But the old domineering
self-confidence returned at once.
"Why loiters a son of France in the paths of peace when the foe, who
presses down upon us, calls for every sword in the kingdom?" he
exclaimed.
"My sword has never been found in the scabbard when the King had need of
it," replied Charles, and he added, threateningly, "nor will it ever be
allowed to rust when the weak call for help, or if they are beyond help,
for revenge."
Roberval blanched. He saw that La Pommeraye had in some way become aware
of his infamous treatment of his niece and De Pontbriand. He knew, too,
that the young lion was roused, and that a false step on his part would
cost him his life. He suddenly changed his tactics.
"Pardon an old soldier, M. de la Pommeraye," he said, "but I have just
come from a hot field where a few such swords as yours would have turned
the tide of battle in our favour. I forgot for the moment that you must
have but lately arrived from the New World, whither King Francis told me
he had sent you to recall me." With an assumed innocence he added: "I am
weary from the fight, and the long ride through the mud; but when I have
had a night's rest I have much to say to you, and shall expect you in my
apartment in the morning. Perhaps you may be persuaded to accompany me
back to camp."
"Never! I serve no tyrant!" said Charles bluntly. "My sword has other
tasks before it."
"You are bold, M. de la Pommeraye, to stand single-handed in my court
and use such language to me. Have you brought any attendants with you?"
"No. I came alone. I had no desire that others should know the cause of
my journey to Picardy."
"It is well," said De Roberval, and to himself he muttered: "And no one
shall see you go hence. M. de la Pommeraye," he said aloud, "does not
wisely to believe all the old wives' tales he has heard. But these
things are not for the ears of the world. To-morrow we shall meet, and,
after our conference, I have no doubt we shall journey hence together.
Etienne will see to your wants. The north tower, Etienne; it is
Monsieur's old room."
As he spoke, he leaped from his horse and entered the castle. When he
was alone in his room he fell on a couch and groaned in spirit. His sin
was finding him out. His fair young niece rose before him, and he seemed
to hear her voice as she had bade him farewell. The vision would not
down. At length he rose, and, draining a wine-cup, strode up and down
the room, muttering defiance at his enemies. "I was but God's servant
punishing vice," he said to himself, "and this fool who dares beard me
in my stronghold shall feel the weight of my hand. He shall die, and the
torture his existence inflicts on me shall end. We shall go hence
together, indeed, but he shall be carried forth. I would not even let
his body remain within my castle walls."
Kill La Pommeraye himself he knew he could not, but the old honour of
the man had become so sapped that he felt little compunction when he
resolved to have him murdered under his own roof. He knew that his own
life was not safe a moment while La Pommeraye lived; and he knew,
moreover, that should the truth of the story get abroad, his hopes of
advancement and honour would be at an end. There was no help for it; he
had gone too far to retreat. Charles must not be allowed to leave the
castle alive.
In Etienne, De Roberval thought he had a faithful ally. Twice had the
lad helped him to remove foes whom his rank would not allow him to
meet, and yet whom he could not send to the gallows. But he had reckoned
without his host this time. Etienne was a faithful henchman of the House
of Roberval, and he had aided his master when he thought the honour of
the family was at stake; but ever since the dim mists of the Isle of
Demons had faded from his sight, he had, with difficulty, kept his
strong, young hands from seizing his master by the throat, and choking
his life out. If he honoured the name he served, he worshipped the
memory of Marguerite; and now that La Pommeraye had come, as he
gathered, to avenge her, he was ready to fall at his feet, to follow him
to the ends of the earth, to the very Isle of Demons, if necessary.
Roberval guessed naught of all this. The heavy peasant face, the dull
eyes, well concealed the workings of the man's soul when the nobleman
called him into his presence, and hinted that he would need his sword
the next day. Etienne guessed his purpose at once, and, when the plan
was revealed, would fain have run his master through the heart, but his
face and eye had an ox-like lack of intelligence.
"Are you ready to risk your life in this enterprise?" said the nobleman.
"It is for the honour of the House of Roberval."
"I am at your service, Sieur," said Etienne, quietly.
"You have seen the man to-day, and you know his strength?"
Etienne bowed.
"You must bring three daring fellows with you. Three of the soldiers
who accompanied me here to-day will do. You can instruct them. Guide
them through the armory, and by yonder passage to this room. The curtain
will conceal you. Make no noise; he is a wary foe. When I draw my sword
upon him, strike him down ere he can turn. Give him no chance; he is not
a man to be trifled with."
Again Etienne signified a stolid assent.
"Away now, and let not your fellows know my signal. A false step will
cost them their lives at La Pommeraye's hand. And let not a word escape
you, or I will string all four of you to the nearest tree. So, away! and
see that you are punctual. Let the good work be well done."
The stoical Picard withdrew from his master's presence, but muttered to
himself as he went down the long hall which led to the square: "It will
go hard, but I will see that the good work is, indeed, well done."
Charles de la Pommeraye was pretty well worn out by the amount of
travelling he had done, and he was glad when Etienne left him, and he
could throw himself on his couch to sleep. But the air seemed
oppressive. He felt that there was treachery in it, and, rising, he
bolted and barred the door of his room, and placed his trusty sword
within reach of his hand. Still he could not rest, and tossed about,
seeing both the hard face of De Roberval before him, and the rugged
outlines of the barren, northern island with the beckoning smoke curling
upward.
Midnight came; and when everything was at rest save the clink, clank of
the sentry's footfall as he walked back and forth on the wall, La
Pommeraye raised himself on his elbow, and listened. A rat seemed to be
gnawing at the wall. "Hard food, these stones," he said to himself.
"Methinks," he added, as the sound grew louder, "the rat hath strong
teeth."
The next instant the moonlight, which streamed in at the high window,
showed him a part of the solid wall moving back, and, in the opening, a
man, tall, square-shouldered, with a bull-neck, stood silent. Charles'
hand found his sword, and, leaping from his bed, he sprang at the
intruder.
When Etienne left his master, instead of going to the part of the castle
where the troopers were quartered, he went without the wall altogether,
and walked up and down in silent meditation. He was planning a course of
action, and his slow wit was tardy in mapping it out. La Pommeraye must
be warned, and must leave the castle; but how to manage this without
calling down on himself the wrath of De Roberval was no easy problem for
Etienne to solve. But he soon determined on one part of his plan. He
would warn La Pommeraye himself. He would then have the rest of the
night to plan his own escape; and perhaps La Pommeraye might be able to
help him out of his difficulty.
He knew a dozen ways of entering and leaving the castle without being
seen, and stealing in by one of them, he waited till midnight, when De
Roberval, who was ever likely to be prowling about, would be almost
sure to be at rest. Many of the rooms had secret passages leading to
them from outside, and La Pommeraye's was one of these. Etienne could
traverse their windings as easily as he could the halls of the interior,
and he resolved to seek an entrance to La Pommeraye's room, and tell him
the whole story.
He found the bolt of the door after some groping about, but it had long
remained unused, and required many vigorous pulls to make it move. At
last it shot back, and, as he pressed his sturdy shoulders against the
wall, the secret door swung open.
When La Pommeraye leaped forward with drawn sword, Etienne showed no
sign of fear.
"It is I, Monsieur," he said, with unmoved slowness.
La Pommeraye lowered his weapon, and exclaimed:
"What brings you here at this hour? I thought you were one of De
Roberval's hired assassins."
"So I am, Monsieur," replied the Picard, with grim humour. "I am to head
a band of them to take your life."
La Pommeraye laughed.
"And where are your fellows, since you are here to put an end to my
career?" he asked.
"Monsieur asks too many questions. I have not exactly come here to
assassinate you, but to tell you the time, the place, and the manner in
which it is to be done. As to my fellows--my master left the carrying
out of the plot to me; and I thought it best to tell you first, before
preparing them for the----"
"Slaughter! I see, good Etienne!" and La Pommeraye burst into a hearty
laugh at the way De Roberval's servant had outwitted him.
"Monsieur has an interview with the Sieur de Roberval to-morrow
morning?" questioned the man.
"Yes, most worthy Etienne."
"In the east tower, in my master's room. I am to admit you to that room;
and, having done it, I am to lead three other murderers, like myself,"
said Etienne, with a grin at his own wit, "by a secret passage similar
to the one by which I entered your room just now. We are to await a
signal from my master--the raising of his sword--and then we are to fall
upon you and make sure of our work. He warned me that if we made a botch
of it you would probably send us all to Heaven, and if we let aught be
known about it, we should all be hanged; and so, methinks, I had better
go be hanged."
Charles could not restrain his amusement at the doleful sincerity with
which the last words were uttered. On other lips the closing remark
would have sounded like dry humour; but Etienne's voice showed that he
expected no better fate.
"So, your master pays me the compliment of hiring no less than four men
to kill me," said Charles. "And what do you propose to do, now that you
have warned me?"
"I know not, Monsieur. It took me an hour walking up and down outside
the gate to get thus far. Another hour's thinking may help me to find
some way of escape from the Sieur de Roberval's wrath."
"I fear, good Etienne, he will never forgive you if his plot
miscarries. He is not a man to break his promises. Perhaps we may see an
easier way out of it than by means of a rope. Who commands the guard
to-night?"
"Pierre Dablon."
"Would he let you pass without doubting your word?"
"Ay, that he would! Pierre has too often felt the strength of my arm to
doubt my word."
"The way is plain, then! Go to the stables, saddle your master's best
and fleetest horse, and put as many leagues between you and this castle
as you can before the time comes to lead your fellows to my death. Tell
Pierre you are sent out by De Roberval with a message that brooks no
delay, and, seeing you so mounted, he will question you no further. Take
this ring, and keep your horse warm till you reach St Malo. Enquire out
Master Jacques Cartier; every Malouin can direct you to him. Show him
the ring, and he will provide for you till I come. And say not a word of
your master's attempt on my life. Let none but Master Cartier's ears
hear the story of Mdlle. de Roberval and M. de Pontbriand. The world
does not understand. They may still be alive, and we will bring them
back; and all France shall hear their story from their own lips."
Etienne could only fall on his knees and kiss Charles' hand in
speechless gratitude.
"But, Monsieur," he exclaimed, "will you not come with me? My master
will certainly kill you; and the castle is full of cut-throats who will
obey him for hire."
"Nay, nay, good Etienne. Away to St Malo. I have a meeting with your
master to-morrow. I will find my own way to his room; and in the course
of a week expect me at St Malo."
Etienne left him, and in half an hour's time was galloping along the
muddy roads, on which great puddles gleamed like silver shields. As he
rode on, he pondered what manner of man it was whom he had just left,
and how, knowing that his life was in danger, he could loiter in the
very stronghold of his enemy.
On the morrow, at the appointed hour, Charles presented himself in De
Roberval's room. The nobleman met him with his usual frigid politeness.
He was somewhat alarmed at seeing him enter unannounced by Etienne.
"How found you your way hither?" he enquired.
"Etienne Brule, the faithful fellow who has waited on me since I entered
your castle, directed me, Sieur," replied Charles.
"He is indeed a faithful fellow," said De Roberval, with a tinge of
irony in his hard voice. "But now tell me more plainly the reason of
this visit."
"The Sieur de Roberval knows only too well."
"Impossible, since you have not yet told me. Your vague hints of last
night conveyed but little meaning. If you have ought to say, speak out
boldly and bluntly, as a soldier should ever speak."
"Yes, and act," said Charles curtly.
"What do you mean?" cried De Roberval.
"If your answer does not satisfy me when I have spoken plainly, you will
soon learn my meaning," said Charles.
"Dare you threaten me?" and De Roberval laid his hand on his sword.
Charles imitated his action.
"Keep that plaything where it is. I have here at my side the sword I
wore on the Sillon. Your weapon might shrink from its touch."
"Curse you!" hissed De Roberval; but remembering how girt about with
foes was Charles, he checked himself, and with an evil smile said: "I
forgot for a moment that you are my guest, with a petition to offer. Out
with it! There is nothing I should not be willing to grant you."
"It is of Mdlle. de Roberval I have come to speak," said Charles, with a
sternness which made the nobleman tremble lest his plans should
miscarry. "Since I returned to France, two months ago, strange tales of
your brutal treatment of your niece have reached my ears. I have come to
you to find out the truth of these tales. If they are true, I will cut
you off as a cursed thing among men. If you can prove them false, I
swear I will defend your honour against every man who insults it by
repeating them."
"I need no champion," said De Roberval testily. "I have done no wrong.
Your friend, whom I trusted, whom I took into my house, whom I saw
nursed back to life in this very room, proved a faithless ingrate, and
betrayed the trust I had placed in him."
"Liar!" came from between Charles' set teeth.
But De Roberval, unheeding the interruption, went on:
"To save my niece's honour I took her with me to the New World, and bade
her lover venture not on board my vessel. But scarcely were we a day at
sea when he stood by her side, having found his way on board among a
gang of criminals. He disgraced the name of De Roberval before the whole
world. I put him in chains for his disobedience; and still he seduced my
niece to his side. Could I, as a just ruler, spare my own? I put her on
an island in the northern seas, with the two jades who had abetted her
crime; and her wretched paramour leaped into the ocean, and doubtless
perished ere he reached the shore."
Charles stood pale and trembling with the effort to restrain himself, as
he listened to this recital, and De Roberval exulted in the thought that
in another moment he would see the man whom he now no longer dreaded
lying dead at his feet. At last La Pommeraye found his tongue.
"Take back that lie!" he thundered, "or, by the holy cross, I will pluck
the tongue that uttered it from your false throat! Claude a deceiver!
Marguerite a----" but he could get no further. He was about to draw his
sword, when he saw De Roberval's weapon flash upwards. The action
recalled him to his senses. He remembered that this was to be the signal
for the assassins. He reached out a sudden hand, seized De Roberval by
the throat, and dashed him headlong against the wall. The shock stunned
him for a moment, and his sword fell ringing on the floor. Charles
picked it up, snapped it across his knee, and flung the pieces at the
nobleman.
"A wretched weapon," said he, "fit for a coward."
De Roberval raised himself, and sat glaring at the wrathful giant.
"You are surprised," said La Pommeraye, "that I have not killed you. It
is not mercy; I but respect the hospitality of your roof. I will let you
live for a time, tortured by your coward's conscience, and then I will
strike you down. Assassin, your plot was discovered. You thought to have
murdered me in your own house--you, who were once noble enough to strike
at your own breast when you thought yourself defeated. Your peasants
have more nobility. Etienne, whom you entrusted with the carrying out of
your plan, told me the whole story, and I have sent him safely on his
way on your best horse. Follow not his steps, or the Duke of Guise will
make you feel his iron hand. You have still a few months to live. I
passed the Isle of Demons, and saw your niece's watchfire beckoning me
ashore. I return thither at once. If they are still alive I will come
back and crave the King to mete out to you the punishment you deserve;
if they have perished I will hack you limb from limb. Attempt not to
follow me, or to send your dogs after me, or your days will suddenly be
shortened."
Leaving the nobleman still half-stunned by the stinging blow he had
received, and speechless at the threats he had listened to, especially
at the mention of the Duke of Guise, Charles strode from the castle,
mounted his horse, which awaited him at the gate, and rode away with a
fury which put all chance of pursuit out of the question.
As he rode on with white face and set teeth, no one seeing him would
have thought that the fierce eye and stern expression could have
belonged to the dashing dare-devil, the prince of cavaliers and
duellists, of a year before.