where the great cabinet stood, to find it on the two sides he examined
perfectly intact; but the other two sides of the big ornamental piece of
furniture fell to the chamberlain's examination, and he was so startled
by the discovery he made that he remained silent and stood there with
his lips compressed.
"Nothing here, Hurst," cried the King, in less excited tones. "It must
have been my fancy; it cannot be the cup I mean. You see nothing?"
"Will your Majesty look here?" said the chamberlain gravely.
"Hah!" cried the King, and he joined his follower on the other side, to
utter an ejaculation full of the rage he felt, for dim as the gallery
was, light enough came through the window opposite to which the cabinet
stood to show that one of the doors had been wrenched open; some of the
drawers within were half unclosed, while several little objects that had
evidently been dropped in haste were upon the floor.
"Robbery! Pillage!" cried the King angrily. "They must have been
disturbed in their act of plunder, whoever it was, and--and--hah!" he
raged out, as he snatched up a case that was lying open. "Look here,
Hurst; this tells the tale. Do you know it?"
"No, Sire."
"You see it is empty."
"Yes, Sire."
"I could gage my life that within the last hour it held that fateful gem
won by the Kings of England, the jewel from the French crown. Now, man,
who is the robber? Speak!"
"Ah!" half whispered the chamberlain. "Your Majesty is right. This
disappearance is accounted for at once. It must have been--"
"The Comte de la Seine!" raged out the King. "Stolen not only from my
own palace, but out of my own private apartments, where I am supposed to
be guarded night and day. Hurst," he continued grimly. "I am afraid
some one is going to die on account of this. But the robbers cannot
have gone far. They must be somewhere about."
"Yes, Sire. There are guards everywhere, and the gates are closed.
They must be in the castle still."
"Then this be my task," cried the King, "to hunt the cunning schemers
down. This way first. There should be two guards at the head of the
south staircase--if they are not asleep."
In his excitement the King drew his sword and led the way to where the
two officers were on duty, ready to challenge and answer frankly that
only one person had passed there, and that the young esquire in the
Comte de la Seine's suite.
"Bah! We are on the wrong track," said the King angrily. "They would
not come this way. That boy was probably sent to take the guards'
attention while the deed was done. Come back, Hurst; this way. You men
arrest anybody who tries to pass you, no matter who it may be. Now,
Hurst, quick, for the game is afoot and we must run it down."
He hurriedly led the way back along the gallery, past the broken cabinet
without giving it a moment's concern, and when nearing the private
corridor the King stopped short, to clutch his follower by the breast
with his left hand.
"Hurst," he whispered hoarsely, the deep tones of his voice betraying
the rage burning in his breast--"Hurst, have we been betrayed?"
"Surely not, your Majesty. Your people are too loyal for that."
"But the French are very cunning, man, and gold, even if it is foreign,
will sometimes work its way."
"Your Majesty speaks in riddles," said the chamberlain nervously, for
his master still clutched him by the breast, and the sword was trembling
in his hand as if he were about to use it upon a prisoner he had taken
himself.
"Riddles!" cried the King. "When we are searching for that vile culprit
whom I believed to be still in the place, and who has not passed the
guards at either end of these galleries? That boy Carrbroke: he told us
that no one had passed by him."
"Yes, your Majesty; but still I do not understand your drift."
"Man, have you no brains to think? Is there not another way from here?"
"Hah!" cried the chamberlain in a hoarse whisper. "The secret passage!"
"Yes," said the King, in a low, deep voice. "Some one--if they have not
watched and discovered for themselves--must have betrayed its existence,
known only to me and you. But maybe it has acted like a trap--the outer
door is locked, and a stranger would not be likely to find the key."
"Oh," whispered the chamberlain, "it is possible, Sire. I will call the
guard."
"No," said the King, with an angry hiss in his voice. "You can use your
sword, Hurst?"
"In your Majesty's service at any time," replied the chamberlain.
"And I am not a child with mine," said the King. "Hurst, man, your
suspicions are right. This French visitor is no paltry Comte. There is
the look of the Valois in his countenance. What if the great object of
his visit here was to steal that gem taken from his land by conquest?
Hurst, I should like to take this man redhanded myself. We are two, and
possibly he is alone, for he would not trust such a task as this to
other hands. We heard just now that his page, esquire, or whatever he
is, had been sent away."
"Yes, Sire. But he will be desperate. Your Majesty's safety must not
be risked. I implore you, let me call the guard."
"Well, as you will," said the King.--"No, it would only be to reveal
that secret place to the common herd. No one shall know it but
ourselves. But stop; there is some one close at hand whom I dare trust.
Old Sir John Carrbroke's son. He will be trusty as his father was to
me, and to my father in his time. Fetch him here."
The chamberlain hurried off, while the King followed slowly, sword in
hand, till he was opposite to the concealed door, where he stood fast to
wait; but an ejaculation uttered by Lord Hurst took him to the latter's
side.
"Traitor!" cried the King angrily. "No, sleeper." And in his rage he
drew back his arm as if to thrust at the youth who was lying upon the
heavy couch.
"No sleeper, your Majesty," cried the chamberlain, bending over
Carrbroke, to raise his eyelids one by one. "Pah!" he ejaculated. "The
odour is quite strong. The poor lad has been drugged by some pungent
medicament." And then as he drew back his hand he took a kerchief from
his pouch to wipe his hands. "The noisome poison is still wet upon his
face."
"Thank Heaven!" said the King. "It was a mercy I did not strike and
slay a faithful soul. Come, then, Hurst; but draw and defend me if
there is need. Now then, back to the arras, and let us see."
"The passage is all black darkness, Sire," whispered the chamberlain;
and the King pointed with his sword to the nearest sconce.
"Bring a light," he said laconically.
The next minute they were opposite the secret door, which the King
unfastened, and was about to raise the arras when the chamberlain
pressed forward.
"I will go first, your Majesty," he said.
"After your King, sir. Yours the task to light me on the way."
A word of opposition was upon his follower's lips, but the King stooped
hastily, raised the arras well on high, and signed to the chamberlain to
hold it up and cast the light into the narrow way he was about to
traverse.
Then with one heavy thrust he threw open the door, and without a
moment's hesitation passed in with his sword advanced, to be followed
quickly by the chamberlain, who raised the light above his head, to
throw the King's shadow right before him, so that his mock semblance,
looking black, solid, and grotesquely dwarfed, moved on in front till it
struck against the angle of the wall where the passage turned sharply to
the left.
Here with sword advanced the chamberlain approached as closely as he
could, fully expecting attack from a hiding foe; but the King passed
boldly on, with his shadow before him, till the next angle was reached,
their footsteps sounding hollow, dull, and strange in the confined
space.
The King walked onward like one well accustomed to traverse the place,
and in another few minutes the great candle his follower bore was
casting the dwarf shadow upon the heavy door that blocked the end.
"A false clue, Hurst," said the King gruffly. "The secret of this place
is still our own.--No, by my faith!" he almost roared. "The light,
man--lower--and look here!"
For there, plain to see, was the ring of a heavy key in the lock of the
massive door, and as the King seized the latch and raised it with a
click, the door swung inward easily upon its well-oiled hinges, followed
by a puff of the soft night air, which would have extinguished the light
had not the King hastily closed the door again.
"Gone, and by this way!" he growled, as he turned the key, sending the
bolt with a sharp snap into the socket. Then with a sharp tug he drew
out the shining wards and signed to his follower to return.
Lord Hurst uttered a low sigh of relief, for he felt that the King had
escaped a terrible danger, the loss of the jewel being as nothing to his
life.
He backed slowly, lighting the way, till they were about half-a-dozen
yards from the door, when he stopped short and raised the light on a
level with a little horizontal niche close to the roof of the passage,
into which the King thrust the key.
"There has been treachery here, Hurst," he said sombrely, "for a
stranger would not be likely to have found that key. Simple
hiding-places are often the most safe. But there," he growled, with a
suppressed oath; "back into the corridor, but extinguish that light
before you raise the arras, and make sure that we are alone."
The order was obeyed, the chamberlain cautiously listening, before going
down upon one knee to raise the tapestry a few inches from the floor and
make sure that Carrbroke was the only occupant of the great gallery,
then creeping quickly out, holding the hangings upward for the King to
pass, and securing the door.
"Now," cried the King furiously, as he brought one foot down with a
heavy stamp, "the villains may be still within the grounds. Guard!
Guard!" he roared, with a voice almost as deep as that of a raging bull;
and as footsteps were almost directly heard, the enraged monarch turned
upon his chamberlain and furiously bade him have the soldiery summoned
and the place well searched, while many minutes had not elapsed before
the alarm bell was sending its vibrating notes with a deep hum through
the night air, and room and corridor echoed with the sounds of excited
voices and trampling feet.
It was in the midst of the orders that were being given by King and
courtier that the clashing sound of arms and shouts of angry men came
from the gate and guard-room, to be followed by the news of the
encounter and the visitors' escape.
And then it was as if a storm was raging through the castle, set in
agitation by the bluff King, who played the part of thunder god himself,
ending by stamping and raging about the outer court animadverting upon
the sluggishness of his guards, till the strong body of horsemen who
formed his bodyguard of mounted archers stood drawn up, ready, with
their arms and armour flashing in the light of scores of flambeaux,
waiting for the final order thundered forth at last by the King himself,
to spare not their spurs, but ride due south and bring back the culprits
alive or dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
SOMEBODY'S WOUND.
As if to aid the fugitives' escape, the moon, which had been shining
brightly the greater part of the evening, had become overclouded almost
from the minute they set off, and headed by the King, who bent low over
the pommel of his saddle, and at the start had seemed to drive his spurs
into his horse's flanks, the little party tore over the darkened road at
a furious pace, no one uttering a word.
The King led; that was sufficient for two of the party, who set their
teeth and gave the horses their heads, merely taking care to rein up
slightly as every now and then they came upon some terribly untended
piece of the road.
"The King leads," thought the two young men, "and all we have to do is
to keep close at his heels, ready if wanted, and for France."
Saint Simon was one who thought little and said less. They had had an
exciting charge, mastered those who opposed them, behaved like gentlemen
of France, and that was enough.
But as Denis galloped on with the wind coming cool and pleasant to
cheeks fevered by the excitement that he had passed through, picture
after picture flitted through his brain, dominated by that in the stable
entry when he had felt his rapier glide through his adversary's neck.
Had he killed this man? something seemed to ask him again and again.
Then came the strong feeling of dissatisfaction as imaginary pictures
took the others' place, illustrating the breaking open of the cabinet
and the stealing of the jewel--imaginary so far as he was concerned, for
no communication as to this having been accomplished had been made to
him. But he took it all for granted, and though he had taken no active
part in the theft--for theft his conscience persisted in calling it--the
base action pressed upon him more and more, in spite of his combating it
with declarations that it was an act of warfare to regain the King's
own, and that it was for France.
At last as they galloped on with their horses following their natural
instinct and keeping closely together as in a knot, the trouble, the
worry became almost unbearable.
"Oh, if something fresh would only happen--something exciting!" Denis
muttered. "I could then bear it better."
At last a thought flashed through his brain, and he started, rose a
little in his stirrups, and began looking about him.
"Are we going right?" he said to himself, and he looked straight ahead
now--beyond Francis, who was slightly in advance, he being on the King's
left, while Leoni's horse galloped level with his own, the beautiful
animal's head being almost within touch of the King's saddle upon the
right.
But all was dark and cloudy, and he could make out nothing.
"The King leads," he muttered, "and what the King does is right."
Thinking this to himself, Denis rode on, perfectly unconscious of the
fact that he who rode on his right was vastly troubled too, and
regardless of everything else kept one eye fixed upon his liege, for he
had noticed that Francis was not riding according to his wont.
He was generally upright in his saddle, and he had never seen him bend
low before like this.
At first he comforted himself with the thought that it was all due to
excitement and the dread of being captured after this nefarious act; for
gloze it over as he would, the subtle Franco-Italian knew in his heart
that though it might be for reasons of State, and to ensure the
stability and future of his King, the scheme was vile. Then, too, there
was all that had taken place that night, the peculiar semi-trance-like
state in which the King had seemed to be plunged. There was the
draught, too, that had been taken, and its effects before he had grasped
the King's wrist and had led him, a passive instrument in his hands, to
where the cabinet stood in the obscurity of the gallery, and had him
standing there, participator of that which had followed, but in a half
unconscious condition the while.
Once or twice after coming to the conclusion, and owning to himself that
the state of Francis was due entirely to the draught he had
administered, Leoni started nervously in his saddle, for the King had
suddenly given a lurch as if partly unseated; but he regained his
balance on the instant, and muttered angrily at his horse for stumbling.
They rode on now at a hand gallop, their horses' hoofs beating heavily
upon the road, but not drowning the King's voice, as every now and then
he made his horse lay back its ears to listen to the rider's words,
which at times came angrily and fast. But they were incoherent and
strange, and it was only now and then that Leoni, on his right, and
Denis, on his left, caught their import, always something about the hunt
and losing their quarry.
It was just after one of these mutterings that the clouds were swept
from the face of the moon, passing onward like a vast black velvet
curtain edged with silver, and leaving visible a third, later on a half,
of the vast arch overhead, studded here and there with stars whose
lustre was paled by the effulgent moon.
And now it was that, after studying the sky overhead for some minutes to
make sure, Denis could control himself no longer, and involuntarily
exclaimed; "Are we going right?"
"What!" cried Leoni sharply, for the King paid no heed, but galloped on,
muttering to himself the while.
"Are we going right?" repeated the lad.
"What do you mean, boy?"
"The road is straight, sir, and we are riding to the north. Should we
not be making for the south?"
"Are you mad, boy? What do you mean?"
"Look, sir--the stars. That must be the Bear."
Leoni was silent for a few moments, breathing heavily the while, as they
rode steadily on. Then the doctor's voice came in a low angry hiss:
"Yes, boy," he said, and his voice sounded like a harsh whisper, "we are
upon the wrong road; but the Count led, and I thought of nothing but
making our escape."
"Are we to rein in, sir? Will you not tell him at once?" whispered
Denis, leaning towards him as near as he could get.
"No; we can do nothing now but gallop on. There is certainly pursuit
going on hot foot behind us--somewhere," he added, after a slight pause;
"and perhaps it is in the Count's wisdom that he has chosen this way,
for if we were beyond earshot when pursuit commenced, the guard would
naturally divine that we should be making for some southern port.
Perhaps all is working for the best."
"Ah!" ejaculated Denis excitedly, for Francis reeled again in his
saddle, this time towards his young esquire, who spurred his steed level
with the King's just in time to save him from falling headlong to the
ground.
"Ah!" he muttered angrily. "This horse is going lame, and we shall be
last. Poor broken beast, I have ridden him too hard, and--I like it
not; I like it not."
"Master Leoni!" cried Denis excitedly, as the King recovered himself
once more. "The Comte, sir--the Comte!"
"I know. I saw. Keep as you are now, as close as you can ride. I'll
keep level on the other side. We must reach water somehow, and I will
give him to drink. It is the excitement. He is ill."
"No, no, sir!" cried Denis wildly. "He is wounded."
"What!" shouted Leoni.
"My hand and sleeve are wet with blood. Look, sir, look!" For the moon
was shining brightly down upon them now. "A horrible cut upon his
brow!"
"Halt!" cried Leoni; and at the command the horses stopped so suddenly
that but for the hands of his followers the King would have been thrown
upon his horse's neck.
"Are we to get him down?" panted Denis.
"No," said Leoni, cool and stern as if, in spite of the emergency,
danger was afar. "Support him that side." And letting his horse's rein
fall upon the neck he drew his little _flacon_ from the breast of his
doublet, unscrewed the top, and passing his arm round the King's
shoulders, the head fell back, and the doctor pressed the neck of the
little flask between his lips, while Francis yawned slightly, and a few
drops trickled over his dry hot tongue. A few drops--no more--and then
the top was screwed on the flask, it was returned to its owner's breast,
and he busily examined the King's forehead, after drawing back the
plumed cap which had been dragged down over his eyes.
"A cut from sword or axe," muttered Leoni. "It must have been given by
one of those halberdiers. He has borne it bravely, gentlemen, and like
a king. Hah! My handkerchief!"
He snatched it out, just as it was, folded like a pad. "Now then, a
scarf," he said. "Yours, Denis. I will unfasten it myself. You, Saint
Simon, ride back a hundred yards and listen. Make out if you can
whether we are pursued."
Saint Simon turned off and rode back without a word, while Leoni hastily
unfastened and drew off the young esquire's silken scarf, and said with
his white teeth glistening in a sardonic smile in the bright moonlight:
"Why, Denis, boy, you will be honoured to-night. You must save this
scarf as an heirloom, for when you get it back it will be deeply stained
with the royal blood of France."
"Hist!" whispered the lad, flushing. "The Comte will hear."
"Perhaps," said Leoni coolly; "but he will not understand. Ah, that is
better: raise his head a little.--Stand still, horse!" he cried angrily;
and then, as Denis raised the King's head a trifle, the white
handkerchief was bound tightly over the wound, and the scarf adjusted so
that it retained it in its place and formed into a turban-like cover,
while the King's jewelled cap was secured by its strap to the
embroidered baldric he wore.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
AN AWKWARD HALT.
Meanwhile the strong medicament administered by Leoni had had its
effect, giving the sufferer temporary energy and to some extent
restoring the reeling senses, so that by the time the _al fresco_
surgery was at an end, Francis began to speak with a fair amount of
coherence.
"Who's this?" he said. "You, Leoni? Thanks, man. How cool and fresh
the night air feels! Have I been hurt? Yes, I remember. That caitiff
dog of an Englishman struck me with his partisan, and I had no time to
reach him and pay him back. Thanks, doctor. Yes, I am better now. But
on, on, on!" he panted, with a sudden return of the slight delirium from
which he had suffered. "An end to all this. Fontainebleau! Can we
reach there to-night?"
"No, sir," replied Leoni soothingly, as with his hand upon the King's
rein he led his horse at a walk. "But we are well on the way for the
palace. That's right. That's right. I am weary of this playing Comte,
and all it means. But we shall be late, Leoni; we shall be late. They
will have laid the hounds upon the boar's track. He will have broken
cover, and I shall not be there with my spear."
"We will go faster soon, sir," said Leoni encouragingly; but he did not
attempt to increase their speed, continuing at a walk and suddenly
drawing rein to speak to Denis.
"Saint Simon," he said--"I had forgotten him."
"Coming on about a hundred yards behind," whispered Denis. "He thinks
we are not followed."
"Hah!" exclaimed Leoni. "You ride on first. I will follow with the
Comte. He will take up all my attention now."
"Is he much hurt?" whispered Denis anxiously.
"No; an ugly cut to the bone, but nothing to fear. Forward, boy, and
keep a sharp look-out for the first road that bears off to the left.
That will be the way--anywhere will be right that takes us beyond
pursuit."
Denis obeyed and rode on, looking vainly for the road he sought, but
finding instead several leading in the opposite direction, while at
every turning he checked his horse to wait till the rest came up, for
their progress was necessarily slow.
The night glided drearily on, with the paces of the horses at a slow
walk growing monotonous in the extreme; and for some time past the
excitement of the flight had been giving place to the first approaches
of a drowsiness that was rapidly becoming invincible, when with a faint
cry of joy the lad noticed, as he looked off to his right, that the
faint soft light was beginning to appear in the east, becoming soon a
long, low pearly band which grew broader and broader, while the stars
that had brightened for a time when the moon went down began to pale.
The patches of woodland back from the road, which had been black and
sombre, began to turn grey, leaves grew distinct, and before long
high-up in the zenith the sky was flecked with a few tiny clouds of a
soft rosy orange which gradually brightened till they glowed like fire,
and then died out, leaving nothing but the clear sky, darkened in the
west, but growing lighter till the eastern horizon was reached, where,
plain to see, were the rapid advances of the coming day.
The birds, too, were beginning to make their pipings heard, and all at
once, as if wakened by the footsteps of the horses, a lark sprang up, to
begin circling round higher and higher, carolling its joyous song, and
with it raising the spirits of the young esquire, as he felt that they
were free once more, and at all events taking the first steps homeward
and backward to the sea, which still lay between him and the rest and
peace for which he longed.