Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The King's Esquires; or, The Jewel of France, by George Manville Fenn.
________________________________________________________________________
This excellent book is, as always with this author, a constant
succession of tense moments.
Dated at the beginning of the 1500s, the action starts in the Court of
the King of France. He is fretting because at some time in the past,
when the English ruled part of France, one of the French Crown Jewels, a
beautiful ruby, was taken from France and put among the English Crown
Jewels. So Francis, the King, decides on going to England on a visit to
the English King, the young Henry the Eighth, finding out where the
jewel is, purloining it before leaving, and restoring it to its place
among his own Crown Jewels. This all goes pretty well, except that King
Henry notices that the jewel is missing, and a chase is made after them.
They are all brought back, but no jewel is to be found. So eventually
they return to France, where to the amazement of all it turns out that
they were successful in their mission, and they really did manage to
bring back the famous ruby.
________________________________________________________________________
THE KING'S ESQUIRES; OR, THE JEWEL OF FRANCE, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
OR, THE JEWEL OF FRANCE.
CHAPTER ONE.
HOW YOUNG DENIS KEPT GUARD.
His Most Christian Majesty King Francis the First had a great preference
for his Palace of Fontainebleau among the many places of residence from
which he could choose, and it is interesting to glance into that
magnificent palace on a certain afternoon in the year 151--. In a
special apartment, from which direct access could be obtained to the
guard chamber, where a detachment of the favourite musketeers of the
King of France was on duty, and which also communicated with the
monarch's private apartments, a youth, nearly a man but not quite was
impatiently striding up and down. He stopped every now and then to
glance out of the low window, from which a view could be obtained over
the great Forest of Fontainebleau, where Philip Augustus in the old
days, centuries before, loved to go hunting. It seemed as though to the
young man there was a chafing disquietude in the silence, the inaction,
of the afternoon, when the inmates of the palace, like the inhabitants
of the tiny little white town, retired to rest for a time in order to be
ready for the evening, when life began to be lived once more.
It was a very handsome chamber in which the young man was evidencing a
species of disquietude, as of awaiting the coming of somebody, or a
summons. As he stopped once in his feverish pacing up and down, a
massive clock was heard to strike three. Rich mats lay on the polished
floor, and the _salon_ was so lofty that high-up it seemed almost grey
dusk by contrast with the bars of sunshine which came through the
window.
From outside there came the challenging clarion note of a trumpet.
"Changing guard," he muttered, "already!" And then he fell to thinking
of other things, for there was beneath the thud of horses' feet, the
baying of a dog and a loud shout.
He turned away from the window at last and tapped the dark arras with
which the walls were draped.
He was a tall, dark-eyed, well-made lad, looking handsome enough in his
rich velvet doublet, evidently one who spent a large part of his time in
the open air, in the chase, or perhaps in sterner work still.
"How much danger?" he murmured, and he went to one side of the room,
raising the heavy folds of a curtain which concealed a door, and
listening intently a minute, before dropping the drapery and then
impatiently springing on to a chair. The chair stood before a long,
narrow, slit-like window, and from it likewise there was little to be
seen but forest, all deep green and silent, and a strip of blue sky. He
sprang down again with a sigh, crossed to the other side of the chamber,
lifted the curtain again, opened a door, and looked out, before closing
the door, dropping the curtain, and resuming his restless walk, as if
saying, "What shall I do with myself?" Somehow the answer seemed to
come to that question, for he suddenly clapped his hand to its side,
drew a long, thin, triangular-bladed sword from its sheath, and
admiringly and caressingly examined the beautiful chased and engraved
open-work steel hilt and guard, giving it a rub here and there with his
dark velvet sleeve. Then he crossed to the great open carved
mantelpiece, took hold of the point of the sword, passing the blade over
so that the hilt rested beyond his right shoulder; and, using the keen
point as a graver, he marked-out, breast high upon one of the supporters
of the chimney-piece, which happened to be a massive half-nude figure,
the shape of a heart--the figure being about four inches in diameter.
Apparently satisfied with his work, he drew back a few feet, turned up
his right sleeve, and grasping his rapier by the handle, made the thin
blade whistle as he waved it through the air and dropped gracefully at
once into position, as if prepared to assault or receive an enemy, the
enemy being the dark oak, chipped and much rubbed, semi-classic figure,
the work of some wood-carver of a hundred years before, and whose grim
aspect was rendered grotesque by the want of a nose. The next minute
the polished floor gave forth sounds of softly shuffling feet, and
stamps, as the lad, page or esquire, and evidently for the time guardian
of the ante-chamber, began to fence and foin, parry and guard, every now
and then delivering a fierce thrust in the latest Italian fashion right
at the marked-out heart upon the grim figure's breast. It was warm
work, for the lad put plenty of spirit and life into his efforts, and
before long his clear, broad forehead and the sides of a rather aquiline
nose began to glisten with a very slight dew. But the efforts were
quite unsuccessful, bringing forth softly uttered ejaculations of
impatience as the keen point of the rapier stuck into the solid wood
above, below, to the right and left, never once within the ellipse
traced out to represent a heart. But evidently under the belief that
practice makes perfect, and regardless of coming shortness of breath,
the lad kept on thrusting away, so intent upon his work that he did not
bear the faint smothered click as of a latch behind him, nor note a
white hand from one of whose fingers glistened dully the stone _en
cabochon_ of a big ruby ring.
This hand looked thin and ghastly against the dark curtain which it
grasped and held on one side for some minutes, while its owner, hidden
by the arras, seemed to be watching the sword-play of the lad. This
went on vigorously as ever even when the tapestry was lightly brushed
aside and a rather short, keen-looking, grizzled-bearded man appeared,
in square black velvet cap and long gown, which half hid a closely
fitting black velvet doublet and silken hose. He was armed, according
to the custom of the time, with a long rapier balanced by a stiletto at
his girdle, and as he dropped the curtain, his hands moved as if
involuntarily to these occupants of his belt and rested there. It was
not a pleasant face that watched the sword-play, for the wrinkles
therein were not those of age, but deeply marked all the same.
They showed, fan-like, in two sets of rays at the corners of his eyes,
and curiously about the corners of his mouth and beside his nose, as if
he were about to laugh, the sort of laugh that one would give who
enjoyed seeing a fellow-creature in pain; while his dark right eye
seemed to glow beneath the grey shaggy brow, at one moment in a strange
fiery way, while the next, as its owner made some slight movement, it
literally flashed as if sending forth scintillations of light, giving to
his countenance a weird, strange aspect, emphasised by the peculiar
fixed stare of his left optic, which suggested that it was doing the
fixed, quiet, patient work of its master, while the other searched and
flashed and sought for fresh subjects upon which its fellow might gaze.
Whatever value such a pair of eyes might be to their possessor, they had
one great drawback, and that was that they caused distrust in a stranger
who met him for the first time, making him involuntarily feel that this
man must be having him at a disadvantage, for it was as if one eye held
him in play and took up his attention, while that other with its strange
fixed stare searched him through and through.
His was not a pleasant smile, and there were people about the Court who
said sinister things about Master Leoni, the King's physician, and who
would not have taken a dose of his medicine even to save their lives,
for he had acquired a bad name, and Saint Simon had once half laughingly
said:
"He knows too much about poisons to please me."
It was no wonder, then, that taking into consideration his quiet and
unexpected approach, and the grim aspect of his face, the fencing lad
should, when he became aware of his presence, give a violent start and
slightly change colour, his exercise-flushed face turning for the moment
pale. It was just after one of his most vigorous attacks upon the
supporter of the great mantelpiece, one which ended in a really
successful thrust delivered with a suppressed "Ha, ha!" followed by a
dull thud, and a tug on the lad's part to extricate the point of his
sword from its new sheath, quite a couple of inches being firmly thrust
into the hard old wood right in the centre of the marked-out heart.
"Humph! At last!" said the watcher, as the boy faced round. "You won't
kill many of the King's enemies, Master Denis, if you can't do better
work than that."
"What!" cried the boy, flushing. "You've been watching?"
"Of course, I watch everything," said the other, smiling. "That's the
way to learn. You must watch, too, my boy--good fencing masters--and
learn how to parry and thrust. It's of no use to carry a fine blade
like that if you don't master its use. Some day you may have to draw it
to defend the King, and aim its point perhaps at an assassin's heart;
and that will be a harder target to hit than that motionless mark. You
seem to have drawn upon the King's furniture to the great damage of the
carving. Denis, my lad, you ought to be able to handle a sword to
better purpose than that. Why, even I, old man as I am, who have not
held a blade in my hand this many a year, could make a better show."
"At binding up wounds perhaps," said the boy scornfully.
"Ay, and making of them too.--His Majesty is not in his chamber, I
suppose?"
"Yes, he is," said the lad shortly; "asleep."
"Soundly, then, or the noise you made must have aroused him. Go and see
if he is yet awake. I want to see him."
The boy frowned, and gave a tug at his weapon, which refused to leave
the wood.
"Gently, my lad," said the doctor. "That is a very beautiful weapon,
too good to spoil, and if you use it like that you will snap off the
point, or drag the blade from the hilt."
"But it is in so fast," cried the lad impatiently, and he pulled with
all his might, his anger gathering at being dictated to and taught.
"Let me," said the doctor, raising one hand; and the lad resented the
offer for the moment, but on second thoughts gave way.
"Perhaps you will find it as hard as I do," he said, with a malicious
smile.
"Perhaps I shall," said his elder; "but I should like to try.
Sometimes, my boy, the _tactus eruditus_ will succeed when main force
fails."
"I wish you wouldn't talk Latin," said the boy impatiently, and he
snatched his hand from the sword-hilt, leaving it vibrating and swaying
up and down where it stuck in the wood.
"Worse and worse," said the doctor quickly, as he caught it by the
guard. "Why, Denis, you don't deserve to possess a blade like that.
There," he continued, as, apparently without an effort, he drew the
rapier from its imprisonment and handed it back to the owner. "There;
sheathe your blade, and if his Majesty is awake, tell him that I beg an
audience."
"And if he is asleep?" said the lad.
"Let him rest," replied the other, with a smile. "Let sleeping--kings
lie. They are always better tempered, my lad, when they have rested
well. Take that as being the truth from an old philosopher, Denis, my
boy, and act accordingly. You and I don't want to lose our heads
through offending the master we serve."
"I don't," cried the boy sharply.
"Nor I," said the doctor, with a smile that was more unpleasant than
ever. "There, go softly."
"Yea, I'll go," said the lad; "but I am sure he's asleep."
"If he is, make haste back and while I wait till his Majesty has ended
his afternoon nap, suppose I give you one of my prescriptions on the
proper way to use a sword."
"But will you?" cried the lad eagerly, his whole manner changing.
"To be sure I will. There was a time when I used to fence, and had
sometimes to wound or take life to save my own. But of late years my
work has been to heal."
The lad nodded sharply, rested his left hand upon the hilt of his now
sheathed sword, drew aside the arras to the right of the fireplace, and
passed through the door that faced him, one which closed behind him with
a soft click.
CHAPTER TWO.
A FENCING LESSON.
"Pert--impudent--all over the young courtier," said the doctor
thoughtfully; "but I like the boy for his father's sake. Yes, all that
was good and true. Now then, what will he say to me this time? I moved
him a little yesterday, and I think that his love of adventure will make
him think well of my proposals."
He stood thoughtful for a few moments, bent of form and dreamy of eye.
Then with a sudden movement he drew himself up quick and alert, and
looking ten years younger, as he swung back his long gown from his
shoulders, grasped his rapier by the sheath, brought round his right
hand to the hilt, and drew forth a glistening blade, to hold it at arm's
length, quivering in the rays of light which came athwart the room from
the high-up narrow window. Then falling into position, his whole body
seemed to glide forward following the blade, as he made a thrust in the
most effortless way, the point of his weapon passing into the hole made
a few minutes earlier by the young esquire; and he was in the act of
drawing it forth to thrust again, when the arras to his right was
plucked aside and the boy stood before him.
"What, you trying!" he cried.
"Yes.--But the King?"
"Asleep, and he will not awaken for an hour yet. No one can hear us,"
continued the lad eagerly. "Do give me a fencing lesson, Master Leoni.
I remember how Saint Simon once said that you were the finest swordsman
about the Court."
"Did he say that?" said the doctor quietly.
"To be sure he did," cried the lad, drawing his sword and putting
himself on guard.--"Come on."
"Better not now," said the doctor. "We may awaken the King."
"Don't I tell you he's fast asleep?"
"Yes; but the guard may hear."
"Not they; and what matter if they did? Now then; shall I attack you?"
"Yes," said the doctor quietly. "Would you like a place marked-out upon
my chest?"
"There, now you are mocking at me."
"Yes: I was."
"Well, you shall attack. But had I better get some buttoned swords? I
shouldn't like to hurt you, sir."
"I'll take care you do not," said the doctor quietly; "and there will be
no need, for I will not hurt you."
The lad coloured slightly as the thought flashed through him that he
should like to humble the other's confidence and pride. The next moment
he was looking on, half astonished, as his adversary slipped off his
long robe-like gown and stood before him in his tight doublet and hose,
upright, keen, and active as a man of half his years, ready to fall into
position the next moment and challenge him to come on.
The lad required no second invitation, for, calling up all he knew of
fencing, he crossed swords and attacked vigorously, with the sensation
the next moment that he had received a sharp jerk of the wrist as his
rapier described a curve in the air and the doctor leaped up, making a
snatch with his left hand, and catching it by the middle of the blade as
it fell, to hold it to its owner with a smile.
"Bad," he said. "Don't let me do that again."
"You can't," cried the lad defiantly, as, tingling with annoyance, he
attacked once more, to feel his adversary's blade seem as if endowed
with snake-like vitality, and twine round his own, which then twitched
and fell with a sharp jingle upon the oaken boards.
"Oh," cried the lad impatiently, "I can't fence a bit! But tell me,
doctor; is there any--no, absurd--stuff! I don't believe in magic. I'd
give anything, though, if you would teach me how to do that."
"You must learn to fence first, my boy, and work hard. I did not learn
to do that in one lesson. Now attack again, and keep a good grip of
your hilt. There, come on."
"No, not now, sir," said the boy huskily. "This has made me hot and
angry, and one ought to be cool when handling pointed weapons. I
shouldn't like to hurt you, sir."
"Neither should I, my lad," said the doctor calmly; "but you need not
fear doing that. Come on, I tell you. There, I'm not speaking
boastingly, Denis, my lad. I am no master of fence, but I can do
precisely what I please with your weapon, disarm you at every encounter,
or turn your point whichever way I choose. There: you see." For
nettled by his words, and in a futile effort to prove that they were
untrue, the lad attacked sharply once again, made about a dozen passes,
to find himself perfectly helpless in his adversary's hands, and at last
stopped short, lowered his point to the floor, and stood with both hands
resting on the hilt.
"You are right, sir," he said. "It's horrible. I thought I could; but
I can't fence a bit."
At that moment there was a sharp click of the outer door, and the doctor
hurriedly began to sheathe his rapier, but not quickly enough for his
action to be unseen. The arras was thrown aside, and a tall handsome
young cavalier strode into the ante-chamber and stopped short in
astonishment.
"Words and wonder!" he cried. "A duel? or young Denis defending his
Majesty from an attempted assassination on the part of Master Leoni with
a sword instead of physic?"
"Does it ever occur to you, Saint Simon, that your tongue runs at times
somewhat too fast?" said the doctor coldly.
"Oh yes, often," was the laughing reply; "but it's a habit it has. What
have I interrupted, though?"
"Master Leoni was giving me a fencing lesson, Saint Simon," cried the
lad eagerly.
"Then you are the luckiest fellow at Court," cried the new arrival.
"Why was I not here? There, pray go on, and let me stand by and learn."
CHAPTER THREE.
HIS MAJESTY.
Denis glanced at the doctor, grasping his hilt tightly the while, and
ready to spring into position for a fresh encounter; but at the same
moment he noted the change which came over his adversary, who from being
tense, erect and active, suddenly seemed to grow limp of body, though
his face was more animated than ever. He hung his head till his chin
rested upon his chest, his eyes literally flashed, and he gazed up
through his bushy brows at the young courtier who had just joined them,
while for answer to his request he slowly finished sheathing his rapier
and then took his heavy gown from where he had thrown it upon a chair,
and held it out to Denis.
"Help me," he said. "I am growing old and stiff."
The lad looked at him wonderingly as he recalled the marvellous activity
of a few minutes earlier, and then helped his instructor to resume his
garment.
"What!" cried Saint Simon warmly. "You will not go on? Why, doctor, I
want to learn."
The doctor gave him a peculiar, double sinister look, and said, with his
unpleasant smile playing about his thin lips:
"The time to bend and train the wand is while it is young and green.
You, sir, have grown too old and tough and stubborn to learn."
"At five and twenty?" cried the young man, flushing.
"Yes, at five and twenty. The soil of a court makes a tree old before
its time, and--hark! Did I not hear his Majesty ring?"
"Yes," cried Denis quickly, and hurriedly smoothing his hair, which hung
loose from his late exertions, and then, readjusting his doublet and
seeing to the hang of his sword, he hurried through the arras, those who
waited hearing the click of the door latch as he passed into the King's
chamber.
"You don't like me, doctor," said Saint Simon, as soon as they were
alone.
"I don't dislike you," said the other, smiling. "Have I ever treated
you as an enemy?"
"No; but--"
"Hist!" whispered the doctor, as voices were heard beyond the hangings;
the door fastening clicked again, and the lad appeared, carrying himself
in stiff and formal fashion.
"Gentlemen," he said, "enter. His Majesty will give you audience."
"Both? Together?" said the doctor.
"Yes. His Majesty asked who waited. I told him, and he bade me show
both in."
"There, doctor," said Saint Simon; "it is not my doing, so don't visit
this upon my head. I daresay he will soon send me away."
Then, following their young escort, the two men stepped into the
darkened chamber where his Majesty, heavy-eyed, as if he was hardly yet
awakened from sleep, lolled back in a short fur-trimmed robe in the
corner of a couch, his left hand behind his neck, his right resting upon
the shaggy head of a huge boar-hound which glanced suspiciously at the
new-comers and uttered a deep muttering growl.
The King's fingers closed tightly upon the animal's ear, and he gave it
a jerk.
"Quiet, Tonnerre!" he said. "Can't you see they are friends?"
_Ugh_! grunted the dog.
"Brute!" cried the King. "You see, gentlemen, he seeks the company of
the wild boar so much that he has acquired his uncouth expressions.
Well, Saint Simon, you want to see me?"
"Always, your Majesty," said the young man lightly. "You told me to
wait upon you this afternoon."
"Did I? Well, I don't know that I want you. But to return your
compliment, the place seems dull when you are not here."
The young man smiled and darted a triumphant glance at the
saturnine-looking doctor, before turning to give Denis a look, his eyes
sparkling with pleasure the while.
"And you, Leoni," said the King, yawning. "Tut, tut!" he added
impatiently. "I am hardly awake. I was tired, gentlemen. Tonnerre and
his brother here led us such a race yesterday that I feel it yet. Well,
Leoni, what do you want?"
"Your Majesty told me that I might come and continue our little debate
of yesterday--"
"To be sure, yes," said the King, yawning again. "Let me see; it was a
sort of historical, half prophetic discourse, very learned and hard for
a hunting man to understand, about the past and the future, and the
safety of my throne, and its depending upon the recovery of a certain
mystic stone carried off--carried off--let me see, Leoni, who did you
say carried it off?"
"The enemy and invader of your country, your Majesty: Henry, the English
King. But, your Majesty--" The doctor ceased speaking and turned
slowly, to let his eyes rest meaningly upon the two young men in turn.
"Eh? What? You mean this is secret, and not for other ears?"
The two young men made a quick movement as their eyes sought the King's,
and mutely asked the question:
Your Majesty wishes us to go?
"My liege, what I communicated was of the gravest import to you and
yours, meant for your ears alone."
"To be sure, Leoni, but kings need very long ears indeed to take in all
that concerns them--and have them too, sometimes, my learned doctor, as
I have no doubt you men of wisdom think. But to be serious; I find I
cannot hear all I want for myself, and am glad to have the help of other
ears that I can trust. You are suspicious, my good old friend."
"No, your Majesty: cautious in your service. Years of experience have
taught me to trust no one in your Majesty's service but myself."
"Ah, but you are not a king. Where should I be if I trusted none?"
The doctor bowed.
"There, you see, I trust you; and what is more, I trust these two boys
as thoroughly as anyone at Court. You know, old friend, that there are
hundreds here who will say they would die for me. Now, those two lads
would not say such a thing to save their lives."
"Your Majesty!" cried the two young courtiers, in the same tone of
protest.
"Well," said the King, smiling; "I am right. I believe you would either
of you die to save me, and without saying word."
The pair drew back, smiling and satisfied, each glancing at the doctor
as much as to say, Do you hear that?
"There," said the King, "I trust you all; so now go on, Leoni, and say
what you have to say; and, boys, mind this; we are in secret conclave
now. There must be no chattering afterwards, or discussion."
"Your Majesty commands," said the doctor gravely. "Shall I continue
from where we left off yesterday?"
"No; let's have it all again. My gallop yesterday through the forest
gave me so much to do in managing a fiery horse and keeping him from
breaking my neck amongst the boughs as he carried me into so many real
dangers, that all your imaginary notions were swept away. Let's have it
all again."
The doctor bowed.
"It will save me," said the King, "from making only a half confidence to
my young friends here. But be brief. Put it if you can into a few
words. You in your studies and porings over black books are convinced--
of what?"
"That your Majesty's throne and succession--"
"Well, really, Leoni, I don't know that I care much about the
succession. But my throne is not a safe seat unless--"
"Unless, your Majesty, that half sacred mystic balas ruby that was
carried off by Henry of England is brought back and restored to its
place in the French Crown."
"Yes, that's it," said the King. "I remember all now. But do you
believe, Leoni, as a man who has long studied the secrets of nature, and
the mysteries of life, that there can be such virtue in precious stones
that they can influence our lives?"
"Yes, your Majesty," said the doctor solemnly; "and everything goes to
prove it the wide world through; amongst the greatest and most civilised
down to the most savage nations these talismanic gems have been
preserved and treasured up. Prosperity and safety of life have always
accompanied their possession; misfortune and destruction their loss."
"Well," said the King thoughtfully, "I don't think that I believe it.
It sounds to me like an old woman's tale."
"If your Majesty would read and study the history of the past--"
"I haven't time," said the King. "But look here; do you mean to tell me
that this present Henry--what is he--the Eighth?--of England believes
all this?"
"Yes, your Majesty, and proves it by treasuring up the ruby that by
right is yours."
"Then you think that the holding of this stone, reft from our crown, had
something to do with the hold of these English upon our fair domains of
France?"
"Certainly, your Majesty, and moreover, I hold that it is your sovereign
duty to restore it to its place."
"How?" said the King, and his eyes rested upon those of the two young
men, whose intent and watchful faces told how they were drinking in with
intense interest the subject that was being discussed.
"That, your Majesty," said the doctor gravely, "is what I am here to
urge upon you."
"But what do you want, man?" cried the King impatiently. "If Henry is
more wise than I, and believes in all this mystic stuff, is it likely
that he will give me back this talisman, as I suppose you would call it,
that his ancestors plundered from our crown?"
"No, your Majesty. Efforts have been made by statesmen of the past, in
previous reigns, to get the jewel back, but all in vain."
"Very well," said the King impatiently; "and France seems to have got on
very well without it. We are at peace with England. Why should I
disturb our friendly brotherly intercourse by raking up the past? I am
quite content and happy to enjoy my hunting pursuits. Do you want me to
go to war, invade England, and bring the jewel back?"
"Far from it, your Majesty."
"Then why disturb the pleasant present?"
"For fear of a troubled future, Sire. It is to ensure your long and
prosperous reign that I speak like this. Believe me, Sire, I have no
other aim."
"Well, Leoni, I believe your words. You have a good position here at
Court, and a good master ready to give you anything in reason; and
believe me, I want to enjoy a quiet prosperous reign. Mine is a very
pleasant life. There are plenty of boars to kill, and I would rather
slay them than Englishmen. War is very attractive and very grand. The
clash of arms, the trumpets' bray, and the thunder of chargers' hoofs,
all thrill me to the core; but I prefer it in the tourney, the mimic
charge, and I don't much care for blood. But you as a wise and
thoughtful man, you tell me that I ought to stir in this and get the
ruby back?"
"I do, Sire," said Leoni sternly.
"Well, well, then I suppose it must be done."
The dog gave a sharp growl and showed his teeth.
"What, sir!" roared the King, snatching back his hand to grasp the
dagger in his girdle. "Do you dare to turn upon your lord?"
"No, no, Sire," cried Denis excitedly. "It was not his fault."
"What do you mean, sir?" said the King angrily.
"You were pulling his ears so hard, Sire, and dragging his head to and
fro."
"Was I?" said the King.
"Yes, Sire. He bore it as long as he could."
"Poor old Tonnerre!" said the King, clapping his hand upon the dog's
head again; and the dog whined with pleasure at the caress. "I was
growing excited, I suppose. Well, never mind the hound. Now then,
Leoni; we must have this ruby back?"
"Yes, Sire. I shall never rest till I see it safely in the ancient
crown."
"And I suppose I must say the same," said the King. "But how is it to
be done? There: speak. You have studied all this out, I suppose? How
is it to be done?"
"By a trusty mission to England, Sire."
"Absurd! I am sure King Henry would never give anything up."
"And I, Sire. He must be forced."
"Send force?"
"No, Sire. The force must be that of one strong, daring envoy who would
seize upon the gem and bring it back."
"What, steal?" cried the King.
"Can one steal that which is one's own, Sire?"
"True. No," said the King. "This is ours by right."
"Your Majesty speaks well," said the doctor triumphantly. "This gem
belongs to France's ancient crown, from which it was wrenched,
plundered, stolen, carried away as spoil. And now it must be
recovered."
"Openly," said the King.
"No, Sire. That means war. My plan is that you should send a trusted
envoy to watch his opportunity, seize the gem or gems, and bring them
back."
"Hah!" ejaculated Denis, in the excitement of the moment; and Saint
Simon turned upon him sharply, and with a resentful look which was
returned.
"But it means a deal," said the King thoughtfully. "That ambassador
would risk his life."
"Hah!" ejaculated Saint Simon, giving vent to his suppressed excitement
in his turn; and Denis now gave him back his resentful jealous look.
"Yes, Sire," continued Leoni; "the envoy would risk his life, of
course--in the service of his King. But there are men who would do this
for their master's sake, to ensure his long and peaceful reign."
"And if he fails?" said the King.
"He would not fail, Sire. He would be carried forward by the knowledge
that he was fighting in the cause of right and duty towards the master
that he loved. Have no fear of that, Sire. He would succeed."
"But I have fear," cried the King. "Find me such a man as that, and I
should look upon him as a treasure whose life I would not risk."
"There would be no risk, Sire. It would be a question not of force but
guile. He would make his way to the Court of your brother of England in
a way which I have planned."
"With recommendations from me?"
"Perhaps, Sire. I have not settled that."
"No," said the King angrily. "Why, man, when the gems were missed, the
theft would be laid at my door. I would sooner march my people across
English ground and take them honestly by force."
"That could not be done, Sire. Leave that to me. Your messenger must
go, and carry out his ambassage by guile."
"And who is to be the man?" asked the King.
"I!" cried Denis, springing forward, to sink upon one knee before
Francis, and so suddenly as to rouse the dog, which leaped towards him,
barking furiously.
"You, my boy!" cried the King.
"No, Sire," cried Saint Simon excitedly, following Denis's example, to
spring to the King's feet. "I will go. It is work for a man grown, not
for a puny boy."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the King merrily. "Quiet, Tonnerre! Quiet!" For
the great hound, roused by the excitement, was filling the chamber with
his deep-toned bay, his eyes glaring redly, and his glistening white
fangs bared, as he gazed in his master's face as if asking for orders as
to whom he should seize by the throat and pin.
"Down, sir!" cried the King again. "Quiet! There, Leoni, was I not
right in letting these boys share our confidence? Who says that Francis
of Valois has not followers in whom he can trust?"
"Not I, Sire," said the doctor grimly; "but this is no work for them."
"Not for Denis here," cried Saint Simon excitedly, "but, your Majesty,
for me. I would strike, and strike now. Mine be the task to do or
die!"
"Silence, boy!" cried the King, laying his hand on Denis's head as he
dumbly looked up at him in protest, his eyes appealing the while that
his monarch's favour should be awarded to him alone. "No, no;
emphatically no! Neither of you will go alone. You hear, boys? I will
not send you on this quest."
Francis turned to Leoni as he spoke, and the doctor bowed his head in
acquiescence.
"Yours are the words of wisdom, Sire," he said. "The work is not for
such as these--these two gallant followers of their King."
"Who then is to follow out the task?" said Francis. "For I like it
well, and it must and shall be done. You hear me, Leoni? I have spoken
now, and I will not rest, since you have roused me to this task, until
this jewel glistens once more in its rightful place above my kingly
crown."
"Spoken like the King of France!" cried the doctor, drawing himself up.
"And now, Sire, it will be done."
"By whom?" cried Francis sternly.
"By your servant, Sire, who has dwelt upon this for years, thought out
and nurtured the plans until the fruit is ripe. By the man who
possesses the energy, the guile, and the determination to serve his
master in this great duty to his King."
"And who is that man?" cried Francis, rising to his feet and standing
proudly before his three courtiers kneeling before him; for as he
uttered his next words Leoni sank in turn upon one knee and bent his
head, to say in a low deep tone, almost a whisper, but which seemed to
fill the silence of the place:
"I, Sire--your faithful servant. I am that man."
The silence for the next few moments was profound, while a cloud that
had eclipsed the sun for some time past floated slowly from before the
glowing orb, which poured its full beams through the gorgeous panes of
the stained-glass windows of the chamber, and flooded the standing
monarch with its glowing light as he made reply. His words were quick,
sharp, and decisive, and fell upon the listeners like a thunderbolt,
stunning them for a moment with the astonishment they felt; but they
were only these:
"Neither are you the man to carry out this quest. I will go myself."
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE DOCTOR'S EYES.
For some moments the trio remained kneeling and staring up at the King
in absolute wonderment; for in a few brief words he had swept away, as
by the touch of a magician's wand, the gathering feeling of jealous
annoyance which was forming in each breast. Leoni was the first to find
the use of his tongue; but it was in a hesitating way quite foreign to
his usual speech that he faltered out:
"You go, Sire?"
"Yes, I said so," said the King sharply.
"But it is impossible, Sire. You could not stoop to do such a thing as
this."
"Then what's the use of being a king," cried Francis, "if one cannot do
what one likes?"
Leoni slowly rose to his feet and shrugged his shoulders.
"That is a question I cannot answer, Sire. It forms part of the scheme
of life. I have lived fifty years in the world, thirty of which have
been spent in thinking and in study of my fellows. I never met one man
yet who could do exactly as he liked."
"Well, if you come to that," said the King, "I don't think that I ever
did; but I mean to do this all the same."
"But how could you, Sire? If the King of England chose to play you
false he might throw you into prison."
"What!" cried Francis hotly.
"And hold you to ransom, Sire."
"Ah! I didn't think of that; but if he did it would give young Denis a
chance to come and rescue me. You would, wouldn't you, boy?"
"Yes, Sire, or die in the attempt."
"Don't you be so fond of talking about dying," cried the King. "Who
wants to die? Here, with all France at my feet, one wants to live and
enjoy oneself. But let's see, Leoni; that wouldn't do at all. What's
to be done?"
"Your Majesty will have to stay at Fontainebleau and let your servant do
this duty, as he has said."
"No!" shouted the King. "I told you I would go myself."
"With a powerful following, Sire," cried Saint Simon, giving Leoni a
triumphant look. "Let me choose and lead your bodyguard."
Denis frowned and set his teeth hard in his annoyance at being passed in
the race by his companion; but he brightened directly on hearing the
King's next impatient words:
"Hang your bodyguard! Leoni is right."
"Yes, Sire," said that individual, just loud enough for the young man to
hear.
"This must be done with guile."
Denis's eyes flashed.
"Pardon, Sire," he cried eagerly. "You might go in disguise." And the
next moment the boy's heart swelled within his breast, for the King
slapped him heartily on the shoulder.
"Good!" he cried. "That's it! Do you hear, Leoni? That's the idea:
I'll go in disguise."
"Sire! It is impossible!" cried the doctor.
"Quite," said the King, laughing; "but I like doing impossible things.
Let me see, what's the proper way to go to work? I have it! As a
learned doctor like you. H'm, no. They'd want me to cure somebody, and
I should be killing him perhaps. Here, Saint Simon, how should I
disguise myself?"
"Well, Sire, if I were going to undertake the task I should dress myself
like a--like a--like a--"
"Minstrel, Sire," cried Denis excitedly, "like the English King Alfred."
"Or Richard Coeur de Lion," shouted Saint Simon, striving not to be
beaten in the race.
"Here, hallo!" cried the King, "that won't do! I do know better than
that. It was Richard's minstrel who went in disguise."
"Yes, Sire," cried Denis eagerly, while Leoni, with his eyelids nearly
closed, glanced from one to the other with a look of contempt.
"That will not do," said the King gruffly. "There is no instrument that
I could play; but I must go as something."
"Is your Majesty seriously determined to go in disguise?" said the
doctor.
"Yes, old Wisdom. Now then, what do you propose?"
"I can only think of one way, Sire, and that is that I should go as what
I am--a doctor--a part, I believe, that I could worthily play."
"Of course," said the King. "There is not a better doctor in the
world."
Leoni's eyes flashed, as he bowed his head gravely.
"But you are not going," said the King decisively.
"No, Sire, unless your Majesty thought it wise that I should go, and
take you as my servant."
"What!" shouted the King.
"In disguise, of course, Sire."
"That I won't!" cried the King. "Either in disguise or out of it. Bah!
Pish! The idea is absurd. Go as your servant! Are you growing into
your dotage, man?"
The two young men exchanged glances, brothers once again in combination
against their rival for the King's favour, who seemed to be coming to
the front and leaving them behind.
"Pardon me, Sire," said the doctor humbly. "I proposed that, as it
seemed an easy way to achieve your ends."
"I would sooner give up the project, Master Leoni," said the King
haughtily. "Propose something else."
The doctor spread his hands apart in the most self-abasing way, but the
King was not appeased.
"Picture me, the eldest son of Holy Church, His Most Christian Majesty,
masquerading as the servant of a leech! Have a care, Master Leoni. You
have a way of handling a lancet and letting your patients' blood.
Recollect that kings have a way too of treating patients so that they
never bleed again."
"I am your Majesty's humble slave," said Leoni, in low, deprecating
tones; but Denis noticed that there was no humility in the half veiled
eyes as they were lowered to the ground; "You are forgiven," said the
King. "But have a care. By the Faith! It brought the blood hotly to
my eyes! Now then, speak again. In what habit shall I go?"
There was silence in the chamber, broken the next moment by the
impatient trampling of the monarch's feet as he paced up and down, while
for a time nobody ventured to speak. And then in his excitement lest he
should be supplanted, it was Denis who sprang into the gap.
"I have a plan, Sire," he cried. "Go as a powerful French noble,
travelling to see the Courts of Europe, and--and--"
"Yes, go on, boy. That notion likes me well."
"Your Majesty might take me as your esquire, or page," added the boy,
trembling lest he should have brought his master's wrath down burning
upon his head.
"Hah!" shouted the King, and for a moment the boy's heart sank, for the
King's hand came down upon his shoulder in a painful grip; but the next
moment the sinking heart rose with a bound, his eyes flashed with
excitement, and for the life of him he could not keep from darting
triumphant glances at his fellow-courtiers. "There, Master Leoni!
There, Saint Simon! Who dares tell me we haven't got a young Solomon of
wisdom in our Court? Hear him! That's the very idea I had in my own
breast, only I couldn't think it then. Yes, Denis, that's the plan, and
we will go at once."
"But your Majesty will want other followers," cried Saint Simon
excitedly. "I could--"
"Select a score of quarrelsome, fiery young blades like yourself, to
pick quarrels with the English courtiers and spoil our plans? No, sir;
that will never do."
"Oh!" groaned the young man, so despairingly that the King laughed
merrily.
"Well, you're not a bad fellow, Saint Simon, and I might get into some
trouble and want the help of your sword as well as my own. Denis, boy,
shall we take him with us?"
The lad flushed deeply at the "shall we?"
It was his moment of triumph. He was called upon to say yes or no, and
he turned his eyes, which flashed with pride, upon his elder companion,
who gazed at him imploringly, and generosity prevailed.
"Oh yes, Sire," he cried. "He will be a splendid follower to have with
us at such a time."
"Then he shall come," cried the King; and Saint Simon sprang forward to
kiss his sovereign's hand, while as he rose he turned his eyes upon
Denis, and the boy react in them, as it were, the extinction of rivalry,
for they seemed to say, I shall never forget this.
"Then that's about all," cried the King, with a sigh of mingled relief
and content.
"Sire, may your servant speak?" said Leoni humbly.
"Yes. What is it?" was the impatient reply.
"You are going into a strange country to encounter many perils."
"Pooh! Adventures."
"And adventures," said Leoni--"and may meet with injuries, suffer in
your health. Would it not be wise to have the leech in your train?"
"My faith, no!" cried the monarch. "I know you of old, my plotting,
scheming friend. You would be having me ill, stretched upon a pallet,
within a week, and then it is the doctor who becomes the King. I think
we three can manage without your help; but I won't be forgetful of old
services, and I'll trust you in this. There is no such scribe about the
Court as you, so you shall keep a chronicle of everything that happens
here while the cat's away, and read the record of the sporting of my
mice to me on my return. I can trust you to see twice as much as any
other man about the Court, in your double-sighted way."
"Double-sighted suggests duplicity, Sire," said the doctor.
"No, no; I don't mean that," cried the King, "and you know it. If I
thought that you were guilty of duplicity, Leoni, do you think that I
should trust you as I do? There," he continued impatiently, "don't look
at me like that, man. It worries me."
"It is my misfortune, Sire, not my intention."
"Of course. I know; I know. But you look sometimes as if you were
keeping me in conversation with one eye, while the other was seeking how
to take me at a disadvantage."
"That's what people about the Court say, Sire," said the doctor, with a
grim smile.
"Yes, I know," replied the King. "I have heard Saint Simon say so. I
shouldn't have thought of it myself. But it is quite right, all the
same."
"In appearance, Sire; but it is not true."
The King laughed.
"My dear doctor, yes, of course; I know that. Do you know what I lay
and thought once when I was ill?"
"No, Sire; but something wise, no doubt."
"Bah! None of your subtle flattery. No one knows better than I do,
Leoni, that I am not a clever man. What I lay and thought was that you
had studied your two crafts so well that one eye was the window from
which the clever doctor's brain looked out, the other that of the calm,
quiet, thoughtful statesman. I should long to have two such eyes as
yours, Leoni, only that there are the ladies, you know. I don't think
that they would approve, eh, doctor? What is your experience?"
"That your Majesty is quite right," replied the other, with his cynical
smile. "I have never been a ladies' man."
CHAPTER FIVE.
A KING AT SEA.
"Well, boys, we are fairly started," said the King, "but this vessel
moves about a great deal. I hope we are not going to have rough
weather."
"Well, I'm sorry to say, Sire--" began Saint Simon.
"Ah!" cried the King, in a low angry voice. "Four days since we
started, and I have been giving you lesson after lesson, and you begin
at once addressing me like that. Once more, both of you, I am the Comte
de la Seine, on my travels, and you, Saint Simon, are my friend, and
you, Denis, my esquire. Now look here, Denis, do I look at all like a
king now?"
"Not in the least, Comte."
"And now you, Saint Simon; what have you got to say about the weather?"
"That I have been talking to the shipmaster, and he says the weather is
going to be very fine--"
"That's good," cried the King.
"--but very windy."
"That's bad," said the King--"for the poor horses," he added hastily.
"I wish we had had them fastened up below."
As he spoke he glanced forward at where, a good distance apart, three
very beautiful chargers were doubly haltered to the rail, and whinnying
uneasily and pawing at the deck, and then made an uneasy gesture, for a
puff of wind filled out the two big sails of the clumsy vessel and made
it careen, so that the royal passenger made a snatch at a rope which was
hanging loose and gave to his touch, when he made another snatch and
caught at Saint Simon to save himself from falling.
"A bad, a clumsy vessel!" he cried angrily. "Here, I'm tired with our
long two days' ride. I think I'll go into the cabin and lie down. Give
me your arm, Denis." And, steadying himself by the lad, he went below,
lay down at once, and dismissed his attendant, who returned on deck, to
be met by Saint Simon.
The two young men, gazed silently at each other, and with mirth in their
eyes.
"The sea doesn't respect kings," said Saint Simon merrily.
"Nor anybody else," replied Denis; "so don't let us holloa till we are
out of the wood."
"You mean across the water."
"Yes," said Denis. "It may be our turn next. I wish we were over in
England now."
"What, are you afraid?" cried Saint Simon.
"Yes--for my poor horse. I'm afraid of his breaking away. Look how he
is straining at his halter, and how rough his coat is. It looked like
satin yesterday. If he broke loose what should we do?"
"Try to tie him up again," said Saint Simon bluntly. "But if one gets
loose the others will follow, and then--"
He stopped short and spread his legs as wide as he could, for the vessel
was beginning to dance in the chopping sea.
"Well, and what then?" cried Denis.
"Our wild-goose journey would be at end, for those horses would go
overboard as sure as we stand here."
"What!" cried Denis excitedly.
"What I have said. My charger is safe to make a dash for the side, and
rise at it; and he'd go over like a skimming bird, and the others would
follow at once."
He had hardly spoken when the skipper of the vessel, a heavy,
sun-tanned-looking man in scarlet cap, high boots and petticoat, came up
to them.
"Look here, young masters," he cried, "I don't often take cattle in my
boat, and when I do I have them slung down into the hold. My deck isn't
a safe place for beasts, and if those three don't break loose before
long I'm no shipman."
"Then what is to be done?" cried Denis hurriedly.
"If the--" He stopped short, for Saint Simon gave him a sharp jerk with
his elbow and continued his speech.
"--Comte's horse were to be lost overboard he'd never forgive us."
"No," said Denis, recovering himself. "Look here, you have plenty of
ropes. Call some of your men to help; we must put slip-knots round
above their hoofs and tie them in different places, so that they
couldn't get away."