ill-starred expedition; but now it was to be at an end, and as the lad
thought this in the dewy freshness and cool air of the hour before
sunrise, he began to enjoy the beauty of the pleasant woodland country
through which their horses paced. But he looked back from time to time,
to see Francis more upright in his saddle, with Leoni riding knee to
knee, and Saint Simon grave and silent fifty yards behind.
Still they passed nothing but some foot-track or rugged lane--nothing in
the way of a high-road--and the lad was about to draw rein at last to
seek counsel as to their further proceedings, when at a turn of the lane
he caught sight of a spreading clump of trees and what seemed to be a
village green, about which clustered a few humble cottages, and an inn
whose sign projected from a tree trunk that overhung the road.
Denis checked his horse now and waited till the others closed up.
"Shall I see if the people are awake," said the lad, "and ask them of
our way?"
"No," replied Leoni coldly. "Ask nothing; but go and summon the people.
Ah, there is some one stirring there! Look--coming out from the door.
Ride on and tell him we want rest and refreshment--a chamber, too, for a
gentleman who has had a fall from his horse. Denis, boy, we are in a
perilous strait. I dare not let the King go further until he has had
some hours of rest and sleep."
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
THE KING'S HORSES AND MEN.
The landlord of the little inn welcomed his visitors eagerly, for he had
never before had guests of such degree, and when not observed he gazed
open-eyed at their rich habiliments, for there had been no time to don
their travelling garments. Everything had been made to give way to the
opportune moment for securing the jewel and making their escape.
All the host studied was about how many gold pieces he would be able to
charge this noble gentleman who had had so unfortunate an accident
through his horse stumbling upon the ill-kept road, while he and his
wife did everything they could in their attentions, in the hope that
their visitors might prolong their stay.
Leoni bit his nails to the quick as he paced up and down, watching the
road from the King's humble chamber, expecting every minute to see a
mounted guard coming to arrest them, and in spite of his longing to be
upon the road he dared not suggest such a thing to the King in his
intervals of consciousness, when he questioned about his state and where
they were, for his hurt was too serious for any risk to be run.
So Leoni tended his wounded sovereign night and day, while, quite as
impatiently as he, Denis and Saint Simon tried to while away the time by
giving extra attention to the horses, and feeding them up ready for a
severe test of their powers when they once more continued their flight.
They too watched the road each way without attempting to leave the inn,
lest troubles should arise and they not be there.
It was late in the afternoon of the fourth day, and the impatience and
anxiety of the King's followers had grown unbearable; but they had this
consolation, that the wound was doing well, and that though weak Francis
was conscious and ready to talk as much as Leoni would permit about
Fontainebleau and the journey home.
But he always avoided making any mention of the jewel, or of his
dissatisfaction at having attempted so wild an escapade.
It was, then, late in the afternoon of this fourth day, when after
Francis had had a light meal he sank into a profound and restful sleep,
thanks to Leoni's dressing of the wound; and as soon as his attendant
had satisfied himself that the sleep was deep, he went down to the
shabby little room occupied by Denis and Saint Simon, who sat dolefully
comparing their quarters with those they had so lately left.
"He is better, then?" cried Denis, springing up as Leoni entered; and
then he looked wonderingly at Leoni, who stood perfectly still, rapt of
manner and silent, gazing fixedly at him with that expressionless stony
eye, while with the other he seemed to be looking Saint Simon through
and through.
"Yes," said the doctor at last, as if dragging himself back from where
his thoughts had wandered away; "better--much."
"He is ready to start, then?" said Denis eagerly.
"No, nor near it. We are quite lost sight of here in this lonely place.
I think we can do so with safety, so we will stay another night. I
dare not risk another breakdown on the road."
"Oh," ejaculated Denis, "you surely do not advise that we should keep
his--the Comte in this squalid place another night?"
"Not from choice, boy, but from necessity. Another such a night as he
has just had, and he may be fit to start. To leave to-day would
aggravate his wound."
"Oh," cried Denis impatiently, "while at any moment Henry's people may
have obtained a clue and surround this place!"
"We are playing for high stakes, boy," said Leoni gravely, "and we must
take all risks."
The King did not awaken until late in the evening, seeming so much
rested and clear that Denis's heart leaped with excitement, for he began
to speak calmly, declaring that he was ready to start.
"No, sir," said Leoni. "Believe me, not yet. Let us see what to-morrow
brings." And he reached out his hand to take his master by the wrist;
but with an impatient "Pish!" Francis snatched his hand away and sprang
to his feet.
"Absurd!" he cried. "I am quite fit to start, for the pain has left my
wound. It would do me more harm to stop fretting here. Order the--"
He said no more, but made a snatch at the wall and would have reeled and
fallen had not Saint Simon acted as the sturdy buttress he was, and
lowered him easily into a chair.
"That giddiness again," cried the King, with a sigh. "The doctor is
right. Early to-morrow morning, then, gentlemen," he said, with a
peculiar smile. "Leoni is king now, and reigns in our stead. I like
not his palace, but we shall be safe here."
The evening passed on. Leoni was with the King in his chamber, and
Denis and Saint Simon were seated gloomily together in their humble
room, and the latter was from time to time sipping and making wry faces
over a stoup of the bitterest, sourest, harshest cider that was ever
drawn from tub, when there was the loud clattering of horses upon the
road coming at a sharp trot; and as the young men sprang to their feet a
loud command was heard, which was followed by the stamping and shuffling
of hoofs as a troop of horsemen drew rein shortly in front of the little
inn.
"Caught!" said Saint Simon abruptly, and his hand sought the hilt of his
sword, while Denis followed his example, just as the door was thrown
open and Leoni rushed in.
"The King's guards," he cried, "and resistance will be in vain.
Gentlemen, I am ready to give my life, as you are yours; but even if we
die for our master's sake, what then? We should only leave him a
prisoner in Henry's hands, to bear the brunt of his trouble all alone."
"You mean that we must surrender?" cried Denis angrily.
"Yes," said Leoni, looking at him fixedly, and with a smile upon his
lips, "and I give you good counsel. It must be so. Hah!" he whispered
harshly, as he caught the boy by the breast. "Hark!"
He loosed his hold, stepped lightly as a cat to the window, and peered
through a tiny opening in the partly fastened window-shutter, to make
out dimly a little crowd of horses and men in the cloudy night.
But his ears made up for the want of penetration of his eyes, for just
then a sharp order rang out and the horses, which had been taking their
turns to lower their muzzles to the water in the long trough in front of
the inn, raised them, dripping, and a couple of minutes later the troop
was in motion again, with the hoofs of the chargers rattling and
gradually dying out upon the road.
Denis was in the act of drawing a long deep breath of relief, hardly
believing that they had escaped, when their host appeared at the door.
"The King's men, gentlemen," he said, "from Windsor; but it was only to
give their horses water," he added sadly. "They would not come in to
drink, and I expect," he continued dolefully, "when I go to look I shall
find the trough empty, and an hour's work before me to fill it from the
well. But they are the King's men, gentlemen; any other travellers
would have paid, as you do, gentlemen, generously and well."
"Let me pay, then, for this," cried Denis, light-hearted as he was at
the thoughts of their escape, and he slipped a broad piece of silver
into the man's hand, sending him on his way rejoicing.
That night Denis dropped into a deep but at the same time a thoroughly
uneasy sleep, in which at times it seemed to him that he was being
pursued, at others that he was the pursuer, while people were constantly
getting into his way, shouting out lustily, "You cannot pass!" He was
in terrible anxiety too about his master, who was just ahead, urging on
his horse, not apparently along an ordinary respectable country road,
but through what seemed to be absolutely interminable galleries of a
palace. He wanted to tell him to turn either to the right or to the
left, and by that means escape from what appeared to be a labyrinth; but
unluckily he could not get his horse abreast of that of his master, and
the wind was blowing so hard that his voice would not carry. He was
just about to shout "France! France!" when he woke up, with the
perspiration standing on his brow and the conviction full upon him as he
reached for his cloak and sword that real danger did threaten his lord,
when Leoni seized his arm.
"Come, boy," he said, and he led him into the room where Francis and
Saint Simon were talking.
And then sounds below caught the boy's ear, the trampling of horses and
the _burr, burr_, of deep-toned voices, one of which said angrily:
"We had traces of the fugitives up to this place. Did they come here?"
"No," was the landlord's prompt reply.
"Well, we must remain here for the night."
"But, sir, I have no room in my poor inn for such a company as yours."
"What you have will serve," was the response, and the speaker entered
the inn, striding past the host.
Francis heard these last words.
"We must come to a great resolution, gentlemen," he said calmly. "We
must separate. Singly you may get through. You will leave me here as I
am ill. I will follow as best I can. Go."
"Never, Sire," said Leoni, and his one word had two echoes in the little
room.
"But--" began Francis, and he stopped, for there was a noise on the
stairs, and the landlord was heard exclaiming:
"I assure you, sir, that the room is not fit--"
"Well, there is a light in it anyway."
"It is empty, sir."
"I see a light under the door."
"But my guests cannot be disturbed."
"You said that the room was empty just now. Peste! Your word seems
doubtful. I will see for myself."
The landlord was silent.
"Stand out of the way, old man, and let me pass, if you value your
head."
The door was pushed roughly open, and the Captain of the Guard strode
in.
"Found!" he cried. "I shall save my credit at Court.--Gentlemen," he
went on, with the utmost courtesy and bowing low, "his Majesty the King,
disappointed with your abrupt leave-taking, has commanded me to escort
you back to his palace."
"It is impossible," cried Leoni sternly. "The Count was seriously
wounded as we left the gates. You see for yourself. He is faint and
weak."
"I am very sorry, sir," replied the captain sternly, "but I have his
Majesty's orders."
"But not to brutally slay the King's guest. I am a _chirurgien_, and
you may take my word."
The captain took a candle in his hand and held it over the rough pallet
where Francis lay, and satisfied himself that Leoni's words were true.
"Is the injury bad?" he said quietly.
"Bad, but not dangerous if he is left undisturbed."
"And if I consent to defer our departure till the morning, what then?"
"I cannot say for certain, sir," replied Leoni, "but I think it may be
possible, with care."
"Very well," said the captain; "but I give you warning, gentlemen, that
any attempt at an escape--"
"Bah!" ejaculated Leoni contemptuously. "Are we likely to leave our
master?"
"Perhaps not," said the captain, with a bluff laugh, "but you might try
to take him."
"In a litter?" said Leoni mockingly.
"There, we must not bandy words, sir," said the captain. "It is my duty
to tell you that an attempt at escape may be at the cost of some of your
lives. We will stay here the night. But now, gentlemen, I have one
unpleasant duty to perform."
"Our swords!" cried Denis hotly.
"No, sir," said the captain, with a smile. "His Majesty would not
desire that I should call upon you to suffer that indignity. My
instructions were that in your hasty departure the other night one of
you took by mistake something--papers, documents, I don't know exactly
what--but something to which his Majesty attaches great importance."
"I hardly understand you," said Leoni coolly.
"Perhaps one of your friends does, sir," continued the captain. "Of
course it was taken by mistake."
"This means, I presume, that you consider yourself bound to search us?"
The captain bowed.
"Pray do so, then, but incommode my patient as little as you can. You
have an easy task, sir, for our valises were left behind."
As Leoni said, it was an easy task, for all offered themselves freely to
the officer's inspection, and soon after the latter signified that he
was satisfied, and was about to leave the room. But as he reached the
door he stopped short and turned to Leoni.
"One moment, sir," he said. "Can you and will you answer for the Comte
here, who seems to be insensible to what is going on?"
"He is," said Leoni, "from the effects of his wound."
"Then will you speak for him? And you, gentlemen, will you all give me
your word that you are not bearing off any paper or despatch belonging
to his Majesty?"
"Certainly," replied Leoni, "and my friends will too. We have neither
paper nor despatch belonging to your King."
The captain bowed, and left the room, to set a couple of his men as
sentries at the chamber door; and as the occupants of the humble room
stood listening to the King's heavy breathing, for he had fallen into a
deep sleep, they heard the tramp of footsteps outside, sounds which made
Leoni glide on tiptoe to the window and cautiously look out.
"Prisoners indeed," he said softly, with a bitter smile, as he returned;
and as in the dim light of the two candles burning on the table Denis
met the doctor's eyes with a stern reproachful look, he shuddered
slightly, for they looked to him more strange and fixed than ever,
having so strange an effect upon him that he could not put his reproach
into words.
"Well," said Leoni lightly, "calmness is the best remedy for a trouble.
Gentlemen, I will watch by our master's side; you are young, and had
better go back to your chambers and try to sleep. Of course it would be
madness to attempt to escape."
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.
A DEATH WARRANT.
"Well," said the King, on the following evening, "you have them
prisoners?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Safely?"
"They are back in their old apartments, sir," replied the chamberlain.
"What, not imprisoned?"
"No, Sire; they are carefully watched, but they are still your Majesty's
guests."
"Absurd!" cried the King fiercely. "This man can be no ambassador. He
is a marauder, a masquerader, who came to my court to act the common
thief."
"But the letter, Sire, of which he was the bearer?"
"Is as false as everything else concerning him. My guests!" cried the
King fiercely. "My prisoners! This man shall die."
"But that will not restore the jewel, Sire."
"What!" cried the King angrily. "Have you not got it?"
"No, Sire. They were carefully searched, but it was not found."
"Then he shall be forced to confess where it is."
"I have not told your Majesty all yet," said the chamberlain.
"Then why have you not?" cried the King fiercely. "Speak out, man;
speak out!"
"Your Majesty checked me," replied the chamberlain deprecatingly, "The
Comte was--"
"The Comte!" cried the King contemptuously.
"Then this member of the Valois family, as you believe he is."
"But no--absurd! Let him be the Comte de la Seine; one who has come
here under false pretences, a pretender. Whoever he is, he is my enemy,
fate has placed him in my hands, and he shall die--ay, if it costs me a
war with France. But mark me well--he dies as the thief who under the
mask of a French nobleman entered my palace to plunder. The world shall
see in this matter only the just punishment of a crime." And as he
spoke the King drew towards him paper and seized a pen. "Short and
sharp punishment," he said, "and in thus acting I clear the way to the
throne which by rights is mine."
The chamberlain stretched out his hand in an imploring gesture, the
while a mocking smile played about the King's lips.
"Sire," he said, "hesitate now. Think well of what you are about to do.
Heaven could let no good come of it, and the day will dawn when you
will rue the committal of a crime."
"Hurst!" exclaimed the King angrily; but the chamberlain dropped on one
knee.
"Your Majesty, let me plead for this stranger who came to your Court--"
"As a thief."
"No, Sire; as a patriot who had determined to obtain the jewel which in
the old time belonged to his ancestors' crown."
"That is naught," said Henry. "This man shall die." And he raised the
pen once more.
"You who are so great a king, Sire, should be magnanimous here. This
night, Sire, is your own, to do good or ill; but it will be the darkest
of your reign if that warrant is signed."
"But why do you intercede?" asked Henry, and he threw himself back in
his chair. "Francis is nothing to you."
"The life of a noble prince, Sire, is much to all the world, and--"
"You know him?" interrupted the King sharply.
"Last year in Paris, Sire, he befriended my brother, who could speak
nothing of him but good; and I have not told you, Sire, that he is very
ill."
"Bah!" cried the King.
"Deadly sick from his wound, Sire."
"His wound!" said the King, starting.
"Yes, Sire. In the daring escape, when two of the guards and Sir Robert
Garstang were wounded, the Comte was struck down by one of your brave
halberdiers."
"And serve the villain right," cried the King impetuously. "Brave
fellow! has he been rewarded?"
"No, Sire. That is left for your Majesty to do."
"And it shall be done, on my royal word," cried the King. "Wounded and
sick, say you?"
"Yes, Sire; I have seen him, and he is very weak."
"Well," said the King, "you have done your part in your appeal. But I
have made up my mind to this." And as he spoke the King drew himself up
in his chair once more and seized his pen.
Hurst watched as if fascinated, seeing the King commence to write, and
then toss the pen aside as he finished, while afterwards he was about to
summon the officer of the guards without, but checked himself, extending
his hand to Hurst, who bent over it.
"I will not doubt you," he said, handing him the warrant. "Deliver it
to the governor." And then with a wave of the hand he dismissed the
chamberlain, who withdrew.
Outside the chamber, Hurst proceeded a short distance down a corridor,
and then gazed at the document by the light of a swinging lamp.
"The death warrant of the King of France," he mused, as he noted the
words condemning the Comte de la Seine to die, and then the formula: "By
the King. Given at our Court at Windsor--Henry R."
He went on slowly along the corridor till he had passed beyond the
King's private apartments, and, as if drawn by some attraction, made his
way in the direction of the chamber where Francis was lying suffering
from his wound.
"Bad, bad, bad," he muttered to himself. "I must be right, and Francis
was ill-advised, if advised at all, and not led by his own impetuous
nature to play such a trick as this. Well, he gambled with his life,
and he has lost. What is it to me? I have my duty to perform. But I
would give something now for the instinct of the prophet, to be able to
see what this will mean in the future to France and to my own country
when it is known."
He walked on dreamily, and then started, for he found that he had
unconsciously drawn near to Francis's chamber, and he hesitated, half
disposed to go in and see how he fared; but he frowned and went on.
"No," he said, "I have my own head to think of, and my movements may be
misconstrued by the most jealous man that ever sat upon a throne."
He was passing slowly on in the gloomiest part by the door, when he
started, for some one had silently glided out of the opening and plucked
him by the sleeve.
"My lord," whispered a voice.
"Ah!" exclaimed Hurst. "You are the doctor, the Comte's follower with
the strange eye. What of your master? How is he now?"
"Bad," said Leoni softly.
"So much the better," said Hurst bitterly. "Insensible?"
"At times, my lord."
"Better still."
"You speak strangely, my lord."
"These are strange times, my man. I spoke so out of sympathy with your
master. It may save him further pain."
"Further pain?" said Leoni, earning the chamberlain's term of the man
"with the strange eye" by the peculiarly fixed look which was dimly
seen.
"Yes, further pain. People who are insensible do not suffer, do they,
doctor?"
"No, my lord; but what do you mean?"
"What is the meed of a thief who robs a king? Is it not death?" cried
Hurst fiercely; and as he spoke he stretched out one hand and tapped it
sharply with the folded warrant that he held.
"Hah!" ejaculated Leoni harshly, and then almost as fiercely as the
chamberlain he whispered, "Would he dare to raise his hand against the
ambassador of France?"
"No, sir," said the chamberlain coldly, "but against the thief of the
night, who abused his hospitality that he might steal. Hark ye, man; if
you have your master's interest at heart, tell him to try to make his
peace with the King by telling him where the jewel lies, for it must be
somewhere concealed. Let him give it up and crave the King's mercy,
before it is too late. Do this, and it may save your life as well."
He turned away, leaving Leoni standing motionless a short distance from
the door, where he remained without stirring until the chamberlain's
footsteps had died away.
CHAPTER FORTY.
A BOY'S RUSE.
The doctor lost no time in thought, but returned to the outer apartment
which he had quitted only a few minutes before, to find that Saint Simon
had joined Denis and was watching by the bed where Francis lay
insensible.
"We must act at once," he said, as they joined him and he gazed at a
narrow window through which the moonlight came. "Our King is in danger
of his life."
Denis's hand went to his sword.
"We will fight to the last," he said, "and die."
"Boy!" exclaimed Leoni contemptuously. "Fight and die! Better act with
craft and live. What! Would you fight an army? Bah! It is not by
that means that we can save his Majesty from this perilous pass."
"Then how?" asked Denis. "Order me to do anything and I will obey."
"I know," said Leoni thoughtfully; "I know." And he took a pace or two
up and down the apartment with his eyes fixed on the floor, while the
two young men watched him narrowly, seeming to be endeavouring to read
his innermost thoughts, the ideas which surged within.
"There is but one thing to be done," said Leoni at last gravely.
"Francis is ill and closely guarded, and his life is doubly in danger,
for Henry's intentions are lad." And as he spoke he looked hard at
Denis, who said not a word.
"And what is that one thing?" asked Saint Simon.
Leoni thought a minute or two before replying.
"It is this," he said at length quietly. "We his followers are free to
go where we list, and Francis must be saved. I, alas, can be nothing in
my plan; but you," he went on, looking direct at Saint Simon, "or Denis,
might save the King."
"How?" exclaimed Denis again, as he firmly met the speaker's peculiar
gaze.
Leoni turned from him, walked slowly to the outer door, opened it as if
about to pass out, and then closed it again, to return quickly to his
two companions, and whispering softly in so low a voice that it was hard
to hear:
"By taking his place while he escapes, and personating him as he lies
here bandaged, his face half hidden in the shadows of the heavy hangings
of the bed in this darkened room."
"I am ready," said Saint Simon huskily.
"And I!" cried Denis. "But--the Comte?"
"I have thought of that," said Leoni. "He is too ill to understand what
is done, and I can mould him to my wishes in every way. We are free, as
his servants, to come and go from the chamber, and there may be ways by
which we can escape--three of us--that is, the Comte and two followers,
while one brave devotee assumes his master's aspect as a wounded man.
It may be days before the discovery takes place, and by that time all
may be safe. Denis, boy, will you do this thing and be for the time
being the simulacrum of him we serve? Good: your face speaks. I knew
it. It is not a question of likeness, but of wearing a heavy bandage
that will nearly hide your face."
There was silence for a moment, and then Leoni spoke again.