A NIGHT RIDE.
WHEN Jean del' Peyra with his father and escort arrived at the point
opposite the house of the ferryman on the Dordogne he shouted for the
boat.
Night had set in, but the moon would rise in an hour; in the meanwhile
some light lingered over the sunken sun, and the stars were shining
faintly.
The river gliding on in rapid descent, but without rush and coil,
reflected the light above. It was as though a heaven of sparks seen
through tears lay at the feet of Jean as he stood and waited in vain for
the ferry.
He was vexed at the delay. Time was speeding along. His father's
condition made him uneasy. The old man was singularly reticent and
stolid; he expressed no satisfaction at his release.
After waiting and renewing his shouts to no purpose, one of the men
said--
"There is a wedding in this ferryman's wife's family. I have a notion
that he may have gone to the merrymaking. It is not often that there are
passengers at night that need his punting-pole."
"We must try the ford," said the other.
"Where is that?" asked Jean, impatiently.
"Further down."
"Then lead to it immediately. We have already squandered too much
valuable time."
The party now descended the river-bank till the spot was reached where
the Dordogne could be traversed without danger by the horsemen.
The beasts went in. There had not been much rain of late, consequently
the ford was passable. The water, however, surged up the leg when the
horses had entered to their girths.
Then, all at once, Ogier del' Peyra laughed.
"What is it, father?" asked Jean, startled.
"It is not a vision. I am not asleep!"
The old man had been oppressed with fear, lest what he went through was
a phantasm of the brain, and lest he should wake to the hideous reality
of a living entombment. The swash of the cold water over his foot, up
his calf, above his knee, was the first thing that roused him to the
certainty that he was really free.
Without difficulty and danger the little party crossed the river; they
ascended the flanks of the great plateau and passed at once into oak
woods. Thence, after a while, they emerged upon a bald track, where
there was hardly any soil at all, and the whole region seemed to be
struck with perpetual hoar-frost. The hoe, even the foot turned up
chalk-flakes. Nothing could grow on so barren a surface.
The moon rose and made the waste look colder, deader than under the
starlight.
Suddenly shouts were heard, and at the same moment before the little
party rushed an old grey wolf. As he passed he turned to them with a
snarl that showed his fangs gleaming as ivory in the moonlight. He did
not stop--he fled precipitately; and next moment from out of a dell
rushed a troop of men armed with pikes, pitchforks, and cudgels,
attended by a legion of farm-dogs yelping vigorously.
The little party drew up. The moon gleamed on the morions and the steel
plates sewn on the buff jerkins, and black to westward on the white
causse[8] lay the shadows of horses and men.
[8] The Causse, from Calx, is the chalk or limestone plateau.
A portion of those pursuing the wolf halted. "Haro! Haro!" shouted one
man. "Here are human wolves, the worst of all! Let us kill them before
we run the other down."
In the clear moonlight they had seen the crosses of the _routiers_ on
the arms of the two men sent from Domme. In a moment the party was
surrounded, and the two freebooters to protect themselves drew their
swords.
Jean pushed forward. "My friends, do you not know me? We are the Del'
Peyras, and my father is but just released from bondage. I am taking him
home."
"We will not hurt you, Messire Jean," said a peasant. "But these fellows
with you--they are beasts of prey. They have killed our men. Stand
aside, that we may knock them off their horses and then beat out their
brains."
"You shall not do this."
"Why not? They are brigands, and not fit to live."
"They are under my protection."
The peasants were ill satisfied; having felt their power they had become
impatient of all restraint on it.
"Look here," said Jean, "my honour and my father's are engaged for these
men. Do not force us to draw our swords on their behalf."
"How do you know but that they will fall on you?"
"They dare not," answered Jean.
"I would trust a wolf rather than one of these. Come on!" The last
address was to his fellows.
Then those who had halted turned and ran in the track of such as were
pursuing the wolf.
What Jean del' Peyra had said was true enough. The two men attending him
would not dare to commit an act of treachery on the way to Ste. Soure.
He and his father were safe till Noémi was restored.
Jean spoke to his father. The old man was silent as he rode; now he
roused himself as from a trance to answer Jean.
"What did you say, my son?"
"Father, we must push on at a quicker pace."
"I cannot push on--I want to go to sleep."
"To sleep, father?"
"I am falling from my horse with fatigue. I must get off. I must lie
down. I have not had my proper rest."
Jean was dismayed; time was slipping along, the moon describing her arch
in heaven; he must reach Le Peuch before daybreak, and now his father
asked for a halt. It was true that he had allowed time for resting the
horses on the way, but how long would the old man require for his
repose? The strain on his nerves, the horror of the darkness and
expectation of a lingering death in the vault, had been so great that a
reaction had set in, and he was unable to keep his eyes open.
"Father," said the young man, "you cannot tarry here on the open
_causse_, we must get on, into the coppice, to a charcoal-burner's
lodge. There is one at no great distance."
A few minutes later Jean looked at his father. The old man had let fall
his bridle, his head was sunk on his breast; in another moment he would
have dropped from his saddle.
The youth called to him, and Ogier started and said:
"I am coming--directly."
In another second he was again asleep.
It was needful to dismount and make Ogier walk. So alone could he be
kept awake. Half a mile distant was the charcoal-burner's heap, and a
rude cabin of branches beside it.
One of the _routiers_ led Ogier's horse. The old man became angry and
irritable at being forced to walk. He scolded his son, he complained
that he was badly treated; in vain did Jean explain that he desired him
to go on but a little way. The Seigneur stood still, and said he must
sit down--he could not, he would not proceed.
Then Jean poured the rest of his flask of spirit down Ogier's throat,
and said peremptorily, "You shall come on, whether you will or no."
The old Seigneur obeyed, grumbled, and in a few minutes was at the
charcoal-burning station, and had flung himself on a bed of fern in the
hut, and was asleep almost as soon as he had cast himself on the
bracken.
The charcoal-burner recognised Jean del' Peyra and saluted him
respectfully, but looked askance at the two _routiers_.
"Have you seen or heard anything of the hunt?" asked the collier. "My
mate has gone with the rest after the wolf. You see that grey beast has
already carried off three children. Yesterday it was Mascot's babe--and
now all the country is up; and they are going to run the wolf down.
There is a ring formed round the _causse._They lured him with a dead
sheep. It is to be trusted they will kill him."
Jean said a word or two in reply. He was very uneasy. The heaviness with
which his father slept showed him that he was in no condition to be
roused at the end of the hour and made to remount. Ogier's strength was
exhausted, and this was not to be wondered at, considering what he had
gone through.
Jean spoke to the collier, and explained to him that he proposed letting
the old man remain where he was and sleep his full. He himself must ride
on with his companions, and he would return in the morning for his
father.
Meanwhile the _routiers_ had drawn aside and were conversing in a low
tone.
"What say you, Heliot? The old fellow will not ride on."
"Then one of us must stay, Peyrot," answered the other, "and the other
proceed with the young one."
"Why not finish them at once?"
"You fool! We cannot--we must recover the demoiselle first."
"That is true--I will stay--you ride forward."
"It is one to me which I dispatch," said Heliot. "You can remain,
Peyrot, and it is well for us that the Seigneur has broken down."
"Why so?"
"Because we should have found it difficult to lay hands on them at Ste.
Soure or at Le Peuch, among their own people."
"There will be Amanieu and Roger."
"Yes--Amanieu and Roger; but all depends--if there be only women about
the thing will be easy enough, but if men be there in arms, I do not see
how we could do it."
"But now----"
"Exactly--now all is coming smooth to our hands," said Heliot. "For the
young Seigneur must return hither to fetch his father--and on the
Causse, here among the coppice, away from all habitations, we can
dispatch them easily."
"I will kill the old man at once--as soon as you have ridden on," said
Peyrot.
"As you like--but you cannot reckon on the collier. He is a big man. If
you kill him first, well and good; but if he be on the alert, and you
note how suspiciously he looks at us, then he may escape and run and
give the alarm, so my sword will be prevented taking the fresher blood
of the young Del' Peyra."
"Then what would you have me do?"
"Remain here. Disarm the suspicions of the charcoal-burner. Keep near
the Seigneur, especially in the morning. If he be awake, be at his side;
if asleep, watch by his bed. The collier must attend to his charcoal.
When I draw near with the demoiselle and Amanieu and Roger, and the
young man, then cut him down and take his head. I will do the same to
the youth."
Presently the voice of Jean was heard summoning them to mount. His
impatience would not endure a longer delay.
Peyrot le Fort came up and said: "I am not going further."
"Not coming on? You must."
"I cannot; my horse is lame."
"Lame! I did not observe that as we rode along."
"You had no eyes save for your father."
"If lame, of course you must stay. We cannot--we dare not linger here
longer. Tarry with my father till we return."
Then Jean went into the booth of the charcoal-burner and looked at his
sleeping father. Within was dark, and accidentally he touched the old
man's foot. At once Ogier started into a sitting posture, and cried out,
"Yes, yes, Guillem! The fourth time--I shall not forget!"
Then he threw himself back, and was sound asleep again.