THE PRICE OF SUCCESS
As the moment after a catastrophe is ever one of silence, a hush
before the piteous wail of anguish rises or the tempest thunders out
its fury, so was it now. Herrick's words were followed by utter
silence.
Then the tempest broke suddenly. With a hiss of rage, Felix raised his
arm to strike his adversary, but Herrick sprang up to him, and gripped
it before the blow could fall.
"I stand sponsor for this man's claim!" de Bornais cried, and the men
who had stood behind him drew their swords as their chief did, and
ranged themselves with him at the foot of the dais.
Other swords leaped from their scabbards in a moment, and women
screamed and scattered, fleeing to the side doors of the hall, men
pressing back to let them go. Only Christine stood immovable, and
Countess Elisabeth made a sudden step forward as though she would go
to Felix's help. So round the dais men waited ready to attack or to
defend, but no one moved to strike the first blow.
At the end of the hall by the great doors it was different. There was
Barbier with his guard, and at a sharp command from the captain they
began to move to Felix's rescue. At that moment Jean sprang to his
feet in the embrasure of the window, a lighted torch, which spluttered
and flared up, in his hand. There was the crash of broken glass, and
as he flung the burning torch into the square below, he shouted in a
voice that rang high above the tumult:
"Long live Roger the Duke!"
For one instant the cry seemed a solitary one, doomed to die in its
own echoes, but the next an answering roar came from the square below,
such a rage of sound that even Barbier's men paused.
"Cut down that grinning fool from the window," shouted Barbier, "and
forward to the Duke!"
Whatever his faults, Barbier was a brave man. Had Felix had more like
him, the situation might have been saved even at this eleventh hour.
But his men hung back, and did not strive with a will against the
pressure of the crowd. Barbier alone fought his way through all
obstacles, and threw himself, sword in hand, upon de Bornais' men. One
stumbled, wounded slightly in this onslaught, and then Barbier's sword
rattled to the floor, and with a catch in his breath he flung out his
arms and fell backward through the crowd which pressed aside to let
him go--dead.
"So he pays for his attack on Maurice," whispered Herrick to the man
whose arm he still held.
Few moments had elapsed since the Count had raised his arm to strike,
and since Barbier had fought and fallen, other swords might well have
been crossed in anger had not the roaring from the square held men
back. There was a force around them which there was no withstanding,
and the cry of "Roger the Duke" now rang in the castle itself, in the
court-yards, and in the corridors. Armed men, shouting the cry, rushed
into the hall, headed by Gaspard Lemasle, and in the court-yard was a
compact throng of men of Vayenne with Pierre Briant at their head.
Barbier was dead in the hall, and one or two who had attempted to
defend the castle had been struck down, killed or grievously hurt,
that was all. The success of the conspirators was complete.
"Treachery triumphant," Felix said as Herrick let go his arm. "The day
is to traitors, Christine."
He had stepped from the dais, and stood beside her, but neither by
look nor movement did she show that she had heard his words. Her eyes
were fixed upon the place where Barbier had staggered back and fallen
through the little lane that pressure on either side had formed for
him. It had closed up again immediately, but somewhere behind there he
lay, perhaps trampled underfoot. It is not to be supposed that the
terrible suddenness of his death had not shocked her, but there was a
sense of relief that the whole hall was not full of fighting and
death. Beyond this her thoughts were unable to focus themselves. Fear
had not held Roger Herrick back, but, as yet, she hardly realized what
had happened. She neither looked at Herrick standing on the steps of
the dais, nor took in the words of Felix, who was standing beside her.
The shouting was still loud in the court-yards, but in the hall there
was silence after the coming of Lemasle and his men.
"Your claim must sound strange to many here," said Father Bertrand.
"Is it your will that I explain it?"
"Speak, father," said Herrick.
"So you, then, are chief conspirator, old fox?" sneered the Count.
"This farce tires me. Have I permission to retire while you prove to
these, my lords and loyal men of Vayenne, how false a claim is made by
this man?"
"No. Stay," said Herrick.
Felix glanced at the faces of those about him. A single sign would
have sufficed to make him their leader in an immediate attack upon
their enemies, but no sign was forthcoming. Even those who were his
friends, whose hope of future advancement lay with the Count, were
afraid to move with those shouts from the court-yard and the square
ringing in their ears.
Speaking very deliberately, Father Bertrand recited the history of the
last Dukes of Montvilliers, even as he had explained it to Herrick in
the Rue St. Romain, showing that although the late Duke, having
deposed his predecessor, had ascended the throne by the will of the
people, even then there existed one with a prior claim.
"This Roger Herrick was alive then, a child in England, the rightful
heir to the Dukedom," said Father Bertrand. "The descent of the late
Duke is known to you all, and all that I have said you can verify at
your will. Might, and the people's will, set the late Duke upon the
throne, and it is in your power to set Count Felix in his place, but
not by right of birth while this man Roger Herrick lives."
While the priest had been speaking Christine turned to look at
Herrick, but he would not meet her eyes. His glance wandered from face
to face in the hall as though he were absorbed in the thought of how
far the people were with him. To Christine it seemed that his own
ambition possessed him entirely.
"Is Vayenne gone mad that it will believe such a tale as this?" said
Felix.
"Let the Duke speak!" cried a voice in the hall, the voice of Lemasle,
and there was a shout of applause, which showed the Count how many
there were against him.
Then Herrick looked at Christine, and their eyes met. Something he
read in them showed him that what he had feared had happened in spite
of all his efforts to prevent it. The knowledge forced him to a sudden
determination. There were friends about him, but there were many
enemies, too. Any indecision would be his ruin; he saw that in the
faces which turned to him expectantly. Circumstances still drove him
forward, and he dare not say all that it was within his heart to
speak. The occasion demanded strong measures.
"Father Bertrand has told you my legal claim," Herrick said, "yet that
should hardly suffice without the will of the people. For the moment
let might be my right, and understand why that right has been
exercised. That success has followed organized rebellion, shows how
ready the people were to do away, not with law and order, but with a
man unfit to reign over them. For this reason I have pressed my claim,
and for no other. Count Felix has friends amongst you, some innocent,
some bought with his promises for the future, but the true value of
that friendship rested on his becoming Duke. Those who were taken
utterly into his confidence I believe to be few, but at all hazards he
meant to be Duke, and to achieve this the Duke's son Maurice must be
got rid of. The manner in which this was done was clever, worthy of
the man who conceived and carried out the treachery. An escort was
sent with Mademoiselle de Liancourt to Passey to bring Maurice to
Vayenne, an escort that had only one honest man in it, Captain Gaspard
Lemasle; the rest were the creatures of Count Felix, paid assassins.
This escort on returning to Vayenne was attacked by a strongly armed
band of robbers, who were no robbers, but other creatures of the
Count, led by the man Barbier, who only a few minutes since so justly
paid the penalty of his crime. A mock skirmish took place in a
clearing in the woods. The result you know. Maurice's body was found
and brought to Vayenne, and the Duke and his son were buried at the
same time in St. Etienne. My lords, is such a man a Duke you would
willingly have to reign over you?"
"Is such a lie to be easily believed?" the Count burst out.
"I fought beside Captain Lemasle in the young Duke's defence," Herrick
cried, "and Mademoiselle de Liancourt can prove the truth of my
words."
All eyes turned to her.
"They are true," she said, and then looking at Herrick, she asked: "Is
that all there is to tell?"
It was not. The very tone in which she asked the question showed that
there was more to be said, and that she knew it. All eyes were turned
to Herrick again expectantly.
"There is no more to tell," said Herrick slowly and firmly, looking at
Christine with a challenge in his glance. "What need to speak of the
silent and careful plotting which has resulted in this night's
success? There has been no treachery against the state."
"Long live Duke Roger!" cried Jean, who still stood in the embrasure
of the window. "Long live the Duke!"
The cry was taken up by Lemasle and his followers in the hall, and
immediately was roared along the corridors, now filled with the men
who had followed Pierre Briant into the court-yard. It was no
uncertain sound, and not a dissentient voice made itself heard. Even
Felix remained silent, and he remembered with sudden fear how Jean had
spoken of a Count once who was hanged over the great gate.
"It is the voice of the people," said Father Bertrand, standing by
the chair of state in which every Duke of Montvilliers had been
crowned. "Roger Herrick, I demand by what right you claim to ascend
this throne."
"By right of birth," he answered, his eyes upon Christine.
"Roger Herrick, I charge you, is there any reason known to you which
makes your claim a false one?"
"There is no reason," he answered, still with his eyes upon Christine.
"Roger Herrick, do you swear to govern this land according to the same
laws of right and liberty by which it has heretofore been governed,
and to hold the welfare of your people as a sacred trust?"
"I swear to do this," said Herrick, and then facing the excited crowd
he cried: "Is there any here who would question me?"
The sudden silence remained unbroken, and with a firm step Herrick
ascended the dais, and seated himself in the chair.
"Roger Herrick, I crown you Duke of Montvilliers," said Father
Bertrand in a loud voice, placing the golden circle upon his head.
"Presently in St. Etienne must you wear the iron crown, and there
receive Heaven's blessing upon this high estate to which you are
called."
Then once again the roar went up from a multitude of throats: "Long
live Roger the Duke! Long live the Duke!" And an instant later came
the first angry growl. "Down with Felix! Death to the Count!"
The Countess Elisabeth with a sharp cry sprang to Felix's side.
Christine did not move, but she looked at Herrick as though she
wondered to what lengths he would go in the pursuit of his ambition.
The Count's death seemed only the natural sequence to the events of
that night.
Herrick sprang to his feet.
"Stop!" he cried, and he looked a leader of men as he stood there, his
arm outstretched in command. "Stop! No revenge shall have my sanction.
Count Felix may yet live to make a good subject. All we need guard
against is his becoming a dangerous rebel. You are free, Count, only
for a term you must limit your freedom to Vayenne. You are not
permitted to leave the city nor to enter the castle. Lemasle, see that
the Count has safe conduct through the streets."
The Countess touched Felix on the arm. Whether she believed what had
been said of him or not, this was not the time to desert him. Felix
bowed his head, and they passed out of the hall together. It would
have gone hard with the Count in the corridors and court-yard but for
the men who marched beside him to the gate and presently escorted his
carriage to the Place Beauvoisin.
"My lords, I would not ask too much of you," said Herrick, when Felix
and the Countess Elisabeth had gone. "Here is no trap to catch your
loyalty and obedience. You were not bid to my coronation; those who
will are free to depart. No harm shall be done you in Vayenne, only
within seven days shall you promise me service, or you will be
reckoned amongst my enemies."
There was a pause, and then an old man stepped forward.
"My Lord Duke, I have ever been a loyal servant to my country. My name
is amongst the oldest in the land, and, therefore, it becomes me,
perhaps, to give words to what many here must feel. This that has
happened to-night has come without warning. You are a stranger to us,
and we cannot know whether all that we have heard to-night, either of
yourself or of Count Felix, is true, or whether there is not something
held back from our knowledge which might give a different complexion
to this affair. It is only just, therefore, that we have time for
consideration, only just that no suspicion should fall upon us though
we do not bow the knee and take oaths upon us to-night."
"Your contention is reasonable," Herrick answered. "I have given you
seven days."
"I would be the first to wish your Grace long life, and herewith I
proffer my service," said de Bornais, kneeling for a moment at the
foot of the dais.
A few followed his example, some honestly enough, since they hated the
Count, others making haste to put themselves forward prominently. But
the greater number chose to take the seven days for consideration, and
passed from the hall without kneeling.
De Bornais and his men, still with swords drawn, stood round the dais,
the Duke's guard of honor, as the hall slowly emptied. Gaspard Lemasle
had cleared the corridors, with the promise that the Duke should come
presently on to the terrace above the court-yard and speak to his
loyal subjects. The nobles passed to their lodgings in the castle, or
waited in ante-rooms until they could be taken through the streets in
safety. The murmur of the great crowd, like the distant ocean breaking
on a rock-bound shore, could still be heard, but the excitement had
died down. The thing that these men had come to do was accomplished.
Jean leaped from the embrasure of the window, and, waddling across the
hall, seated himself on the lowest step of the dais, close to where
Christine still stood immovable.
"Has Mademoiselle de Liancourt no word for us?" said Herrick, when
the last of the nobles had gone.
She started at the sound of her name, but she did not speak.
"You gave us a certain promise, mademoiselle, which I warned you it
would be hard to fulfil."
"So hard, sir, that it has already passed from my memory," she said.
"I feared so," Herrick returned quietly. "Later, perhaps, you will
understand. Mademoiselle, with you I make no bargain. Take time for
consideration, as long as you will. Though you hate me, I swear never
to number you among my enemies."
"I understand," she said, turning to him quickly, "and I want no time
for consideration. I shall never recognize your title to sit on the
throne of Montvilliers. You have cleverly realized your ambition, and
in a measure I have unwittingly helped you to it. Count me as you
will, but I make no secret of my enmity. It shall last to the end, and
those who plot against you shall find me a willing tool. It is not for
nothing that I have loved this land, for the good of it I am prepared
for any sacrifice, and am I, Christine de Liancourt, to bend the knee
to an English adventurer, who, with the help of a fool and a mob and
his own mother-wit, seizes the throne? To-night madness has run riot,
the reaction has to come, and be very sure it will come. What real
value is the support of a mob? To-day it shouts for you, to-morrow it
will as easily shout for another. Live out your little dream, I
promise you a rude awakening. To-night is yours, and I bow to
circumstances which give you power to-night. Have I your leave to
depart?"
"Whither, lady?"
She looked at him defiantly.
"Though we have sworn never to count you amongst our enemies, we are
not ignorant of the power of so fair a rebel. There was an order
issued by Count Felix that Mademoiselle de Liancourt was not to be
allowed out of the castle, that order I endorse."
"Am I a prisoner?" she asked.
"No mademoiselle; an honored guest in my Castle of Vayenne. De
Bornais, I deliver our guest into your keeping. And, Lemasle, see that
the password is changed presently. 'Obedience and trust' have little
meaning."
Christine looked at Herrick once swiftly, and then passed out of the
hall, followed by de Bornais and his men. Herrick, the golden circle
upon his brow, leaned back in his chair like a tired man. Father
Bertrand stood beside him. Lemasle stood at the foot of the dais, and
Jean sat on the lowest step. They were alone.
"You look too glum for a successful man, friend Roger," said the
dwarf.
"Success leaves a bitter taste upon my lips."
"It will pass with morning," said the priest.
"It shall last to the end," said Herrick, repeating Christine's words.
"I fear you have been too lenient," said Lemasle, letting his sword
fall with a rattle into its scabbard.
"He, at least, has found the payment sufficiently high," said Jean,
and the bells on his bauble jingled as he pointed it at the dead body
of Captain Barbier.