WHAT MONSEIGNEUR D'INCHY AND MESSIRE GILLES DE
CROHIN MUTUALLY THOUGHT OF ONE ANOTHER
I
And three days later, an' it please you, Messire Gilles presented
himself, his safe-conduct and his faithful Jehan at the Porte de
Cantimpré.
The safe-conduct being made out in the name of Monseigneur le Prince
de Froidmont, his equerry, Messire Gilles de Crohin, and his
serving-man, the absence of one of the three personages was casually
commented on by the Captain of the Guard.
'My equerry hath fallen sick on the way,' explained Gilles airily.
'He lies at a village inn close by and will come as soon as may be.'
It was at once arranged that whenever the equerry did present himself
at the gate, Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont was immediately to be
apprised of his arrival so that he might at once stand guarantee for
the man's identity. Needless to say that no such equerry existed,
nor does the Captain of the Guard appear to have worried his head
over so small a matter. But, anyway, Gilles now was inside Cambray,
the scene of his coming adventure, and I can assure you that on this
first occasion--it was late evening then and a cold, drizzling rain
was blurring every outline of the picturesque city--Gilles did not
stride about the streets with that careless jauntiness which
characterized his usual demeanour.
After some searchings and many wanderings through the most
unfrequented portions of the city, Messire did finally espy the Rue
aux Juifs, at one end of which there dangled on a ricketty iron
bracket a half-obliterated sign that still bore the legend 'Les Trois
Rois' in black paint on a crimson ground and three dabs of pink
paint, surmounted by dabs of yellowish paint, which might still pass
muster as kingly faces surmounted by their crowns. Now, if you
remember, the Rue aux Juifs in Cambray is a narrow street which runs
behind the Place aux Bois, and links the latter with the Porte Notre
Dame. Owing to the elaborate corbelling of the old houses on either
side, it appeared far narrower in the year 1581 than it does
to-day,[1] and the hostelry so pretentiously styled 'Les Trois Rois'
was of the humblest description.
[1] In the spring of 1914.
Gilles was satisfied to find it so. He liked its seclusion and had
never been _difficile_ in the matter of his creature comforts.
Secrecy and mutual confidence were the greatest desiderata for the
moment in the pursuit of his adventure, and he knew enough about the
exquisite Queen of Navarre that if any male creature who dwelt within
'Les Trois Rois' had come within the magic circle of her fascination,
that man would go through fire and water, torture and hell itself, in
order to serve her.
So he knocked boldly at the ricketty front door of the humble
hostelry. A young man, thin and pale, wearing a long doublet of dark
woollen stuff and a black cap above his scanty yellow hair, opened
the door and bade him welcome. He had a lanthorn in his hand and
held it high above his head, surveying the stranger with that
pathetic air, half-fear, half-entreaty, wherewith the very poor are
wont to regard those who might bring about a small measure of change
in their misery.
Gilles at once presented the letter which Madame la Reyne de Navarre
had given him for his prospective host. The young man glanced at the
latter, recognized the signature, and at once his almost
cadaverous-looking face became transfigured. His hollow eyes took on
a glow of joy, his cheeks assumed a warm hue, his long, bony hands
clutched the welcome missive as an idolater might clutch the relic
which he worshipped.
There was no doubt that Messire Gilles would be made welcome--and
right welcome--in the humble hostelry. Not only would discretion be
assured him, but also unswerving devotion, of which indeed he might
presently stand in sore need.
'My mother,' stammered the youth, after he had recovered from his
primary emotion, 'is bedridden now, alas! but I will do my best to
serve you, Messire, and your henchman, to the best of my ability. I
will tend you and wait on you, and whatever this humble abode hath to
offer is entirely at your disposal. My liege lady commands,' he
added, drawing up his spare frame with the air of a devotee in the
presence of his hero. 'I will obey her in all things!'
We will not say that Gilles was exactly gratified to hear that the
hostess of 'Les Trois Rois' was bedridden and would be unable to
attend on him, but it is certain that he was not grieved. With this
young enthusiast alone to attend on him and to share the secret of
his adventure, he was as secure from untimely discovery as it was
possible under the circumstances to be.
II
At eleven o'clock the next morning, Gilles sent word round to
Monseigneur the governor of the Cambrésis that he would wait on him
within the hour. Together with this message he sent the sealed
letter wherein the Queen of Navarre commended her dear brother
François, Duc d'Anjou, to the good graces of Monseigneur the governor.
At the hour when the messenger arrived, M. le Comte de Lalain, who
was governor of Flanders and one of d'Inchy's closest associates, was
closeted with the latter in one of the stately rooms of the
Archiepiscopal Palace where M. d'Inchy had taken up his abode after
he had dispossessed the Archbishop and taken possession of the city.
D'Inchy, obviously nervy and anxious, quickly dismissed the
messenger; then he turned to de Lalain and, throwing the Queen's
letter across the table to him, he said briefly: 'Well, he has come!'
De Lalain in his turn read the letter through. Then he sighed.
'Yes,' he said. 'He, at any rate, seems determined to carry the
adventure through.'
'I hope to God that we have done right,' rejoined d'Inchy. 'The
whole thing, now that it is upon us, appears to me more foolish than
ever it did before.'
'And there is no drawing back now, unfortunately.'
'The whole affair is in God's hands,' quoth d'Inchy sententiously.
'In the hands of an irresponsible and dissolute prince,' said the
other moodily. 'I blame de Montigny for having consented so readily.'
'Then you must blame yourself too, my friend,' retorted d'Inchy
dryly. 'You, too, consented, and so did I....'
'I know that well enough! Like yourself, de Montigny and I acted for
the best, though I for one could even now with zest strike that
Valois Prince in the face for this insult upon our ward.'
But d'Inchy apparently was all for a conciliating attitude and a
cheerful view of the situation.
'Do not,' he said lightly, 'let us use grandiloquent words, my dear
de Lalain. There is no insult in a man's desire to see the woman
whom he is asked to wed. For the time being Jacqueline will hold
herself aloof. She will appear little in public, and then only
wearing a mask. After a few days, if affairs seem to be shaping to
our satisfaction, we can always allow a certain degree of intimacy.
Jacqueline is so beautiful that we really run no risk of refusal.
And,' he added with a quick sign of finality, 'in any case we had no
choice.'
'Alas, no!' rejoined de Lalain ruefully. 'For of a truth I cannot
bring myself to believe in Orange as the saviour of the Netherlands.
He thinks that he can rally the burghers and the mass of the people
to his standard. But I doubt it. And if he fails in his present
campaign we shall all fall into a veritable abyss of humiliation and
dependence on those abominable Spaniards--far worse than ever before.'
'And all our friends think the same, as you well know, my good de
Lalain,' continued d'Inchy firmly. 'An alliance with a prince of the
House of France is safer than a submission to the leadership of
Orange. We want the help of France; we want her well-trained armies,
her capable generals, the weight of her wealth and influence to drive
the Spaniards out of our provinces. Elizabeth of England promises
much but holds little. She is on the side of Orange. I am on the
side of France.'
'So am I, my good d'Inchy,' rejoined de Lalain; 'else I had never
consented to the Queen of Navarre's madcap scheme.'
'Nor I,' concluded d'Inchy with the solemn earnestness of political
fanaticism. 'So why all these misgivings, my good friend?'
'Was it fair to the girl?' murmured the other almost involuntarily.
'Monsieur is as fickle as he is unprincipled. Had we the right to
toy with a woman's heart--a young girl's--our kinswoman----?'
'You wrong Jacqueline by such doubts, my friend. She is not a child
nor yet an irresponsible girl. She knows that her person and her
fortune are powerful assets in the future of her country. She is a
patriot, and will never allow sentiment to overrule her duty.'
Perhaps de Lalain would have liked to continue the argument.
Obviously his conscience was smiting him a little now that the
curtain had actually rung up on the first act of the foolish
adventure. The ill-fame of the Valois prince had preceded him long
ago. De Lalain knew--and so did d'Inchy, so did de Montigny--that
_Monsieur_ was both profligate and faithless. He, like the others,
had entered into a bargain with one whom they could never trust. Was
it fair? Was it just? Would God's blessing descend upon the
proposed Kingdom of the Netherlands if its foundations rested on so
infamous a base? And yet de Lalain, though conscious of that vague
feeling of remorse, had no thought of turning back. Even now, as a
tall, masked figure appeared under the lintel of the door in the wake
of the usher, and then stepped boldly into the room, he made a great
effort to control his resentment. Though his hand ached to drag the
mask away from the man's face, to try and read him eye to eye, his
reason re-asserted itself, re-adjusted his thoughts and his
sentiments. 'This,' it whispered insistently, 'this man who has come
to Cambray masked and disguised, is a prince of the House of France.
If he approve of the beautiful Flemish heiress and consents to take
her for wife, the future of the Netherlands is assured, even though
he were twenty times as base as he is depicted.'
And reason gained the victory. D'Inchy already had gone a few steps
forward in order to greet his exalted visitor. De Lalain composed
himself too, even paid an involuntary tribute of admiration to that
tall and martial-looking figure which enshrined, so rumour had it, a
soul that was both weak and false.
III
And Messire Gilles de Crohin, the penniless soldier of fortune, the
mountebank set to play an unworthy part, was greeted by these two
proud Flemish nobles with all the respect due to a prince of the
House of France. And indeed there was nothing mean or humble about
his appearance even though he had come to Cambray with only one man
to serve him, and that man a rough and uncouth soldier with a
ludicrous stutter which would at once have provoked the gibes of
Monseigneur, the governor's servants, but for the fact that Maître
Jehan's fists appeared as hard and harder than their heads, and that
his temper was so hot that he had already put the first scoffers to
flight by the mere rolling of his eyes. He was standing at this
precise moment immediately behind his master, and as soon as the
usher had withdrawn and the door been closed, he slipped quite
unostentatiously into the nearest corner and remained there, with his
eyes fixed on Messire like a faithful watch-dog, silent and keen.
The two Flemish lords had also waited until the usher had
disappeared; then only did they make obeisance, with all the
ceremonious empressment which the presence of a Royal personage
demanded.
Let us admit at once that Gilles looked magnificent in Monsieur le
Duc d'Anjou's splendid clothes--doublet and trunks of fine satin,
slashed and puffed after the latest fashion; hose of Italian silk and
short mantle of Genoa velvet, exquisitely embroidered in dull silver
and gold, the whole of that sombre bottle-green hue specially
affected by _Monsieur_ and a miracle of the dyer's subtle art. He
had ruffles at neck and wrist of delicate Mechlin lace, wore a mask
with a frill of black lace pendant from it, which effectually hid the
whole of his face, and at his side a rapier which obviously hailed
from Toledo. Altogether a splendid prince! And it was difficult
indeed to credit the rumours which averred that he had undermined his
constitution by high living and drinking and a life of profligacy and
excess.
He received the greetings of the Flemish lords with just the
necessary measure of gracious condescension, and through the slits of
his mask he was studying with keen anxiety what might be hidden
behind those stolid and stern faces and the frowning glances
wherewith two pairs of eyes were steadfastly regarding him.
D'Inchy waited in dutiful respect till _Monsieur_, Duc d'Anjou, was
pleased to be seated; then he said:
'Monseigneur understood, I hope, how it was that we did not present
our respects to you in person. Such a ceremony would have set the
tongues of our town gossips wagging more furiously than before.'
Already, it seemed that the presence of the stranger inside Cambray
had created some comment. In these days, when the Spanish armies
swarmed all over the province, when plots and counter-plots were
being constantly hatched in favour of one political side or another,
strangers were none too welcome inside the city. There was the
constant fear of spies or of traitors, of emissaries from Spain or
France or England, of treason brewed or brewing, which might end in
greater miseries yet for any unfortunate province which was striving
for its own independence and the overthrow of Spanish tyranny.
Gilles, listening with half an ear to Monseigneur d'Inchy's elaborate
compliments, was inwardly marvelling whether spies had not already
come upon his track and would upset the Queen of Navarre's plans even
before they had come to maturity. He had a curious and exceedingly
uncomfortable sensation of unreality, as if these two stern-looking
Flemings were not actual personages but puppets moved by an unseen
hand for the peopling of his dreams. He answered the elaborate
flummeries of the governor with a vague: 'I thank you, Messire.'
Then he added a little more coherently: 'I understood everything,
believe me, and must again thank you for acceding to my wishes and to
those of my sister, the Queen of Navarre.'
'Our one desire, Monseigneur,' continued d'Inchy stiffly, and still
speaking very deferentially, 'our one desire is to see the
sovereignty of the Netherlands secure in your keeping.'
Gilles roused himself. It was no use and ill policy to boot to allow
that feeling of unreality to dominate his mood so utterly. If he let
himself drift upon these waves of somnolence he might, with one
unguarded word, betray the grave interests which had been committed
to his care.
'That is understood, Messire,' he said dryly. 'Messire de Montigny
put the whole matter before me and before my sister of Navarre. We
both fell in readily with your schemes. As for me, you know my
feelings in the matter. I only asked for delay and consideration ere
I pledged myself irrevocably to so grave an affair.'
'And we, equally readily, Monseigneur,' asserted de Lalain, 'do place
ourselves entirely at your service.'
After which preliminary exchange of compliments, the Flemings were
ready to discuss the matter in all its bearings. All the arguments
which had been adduced by de Montigny when the proposed marriage was
being discussed before the Queen of Navarre, were once more dished up
for the benefit of _Monsieur_. Gilles played his part with as much
ease as his want of experience would allow; but he was a soldier and
not a courtier, ill-versed too in the art of guarded speeches. He
fumed and fretted over all these pourparlers quite as much and more
than _Monsieur_ would have done, and once or twice he caught sight
through the slits of his mask of certain glances of puzzled
wonderment which passed between the two men at a more than usually
rough retort which had escaped his lips.
Half an hour drew its weary length along while the discussion
proceeded, and it was at the very end of that time that M. le Baron
d'Inchy said quite casually:
'Of course, you, Monseigneur, will understand that since you choose
to do your wooing under a mask, our ward, Madame Jacqueline de
Broyart, Dame de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, will
not appear in public either, save also with a mask covering her face.'
Now Madame la Reyne de Navarre had not thought of this eventuality,
and indeed if it had truly been _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou who had
received this ultimatum, he would undoubtedly have then and there
turned on his heel and left these mulish Flemings to settle their own
affairs as they wished. But Gilles had sworn to see the business
through. Left to himself in this difficulty, he was for the moment
puzzled, but never tempted to give up the game. The two Flemish
lords appeared so determined, and with it all so pleased, with their
counter-stroke, that any kind of argument would only have ended
either in humiliating acquiescence or in the breaking off of the
negotiations then and there. The latter being of course unthinkable,
Gilles thought it best to take this part of the adventure as lightly
as he had taken the rest.
''Tis hard for a man to woo a maid whose face he is not allowed to
see,' he said, by way of protest.
'Oh, Monseigneur is pleased to jest!' was d'Inchy's calm rejoinder.
'It was agreed that you should come to Cambray and see the noble lady
who holds in her dainty hand the sovereignty of the Netherlands for
her future lord; but, as Messire de Montigny had the honour to tell
you, Madame Jacqueline de Broyart is not going to be trotted out for
any man's inspection--be he King or Emperor, or Prince--like a filly
that is put up for sale.'
'But man----' retorted Gilles, nettled by the Flemish lord's coolness.
'I crave Monseigneur's pardon,' broke in d'Inchy with perfect outward
deference; 'but we must remember that Monseigneur also is here for
inspection. If Madame Jacqueline refuses the alliance, neither I nor
my co-guardian would dream of forcing her choice.'
'That is understood, Messire,' rejoined Gilles coldly. 'And I have
set myself the task of wooing the lady with ardour, so as to win her
affection as well as her hand.'
'Oh, Monseigneur....' protested the Fleming with a deprecating smile.
'That is hardly the position, is it? You have reserved unto yourself
the right to withdraw. Well, we arrogate that same right for our
ward.'
'A just arrogation, Messire,' riposted Gilles. 'But why the mask?'
he added blandly.
'If Monseigneur will woo Madame definitely and openly,' replied
d'Inchy firmly, 'she will not wear a mask either. But then there can
be no question of withdrawal if she consents.'
Now, to woo Madame Jacqueline definitely and openly was just the one
thing Gilles could not do. So there was the difficulty and there the
cunning and subtlety of these Flemish lords, who had very cleverly
succeeded in getting _Monsieur_ into a corner and in safeguarding at
the same time the pride and dignity of the greatest heiress in
Flanders. Gilles would have given all the worlds which he did not
possess for the power to consult with Madame la Reyne de Navarre over
this new move on the part of the Flemings. But, alas! she was far
away now, flying across France after her faithless brother, hoping
soon to catch him by the tails of his satin doublet and to drag him
back to the feet of the rich heiress whom that unfortunate Gilles was
deputed to woo and win for him. And Gilles was left to decide for
himself, which he did with a 'Very well, Messire, it shall be as you
wish!' and as gracious a nod and bow to these two obstinate men as he
could bring himself to perform; for, of a truth, he would gladly have
given each a broken head.
Thus the actual discussion of the affair was ended. After that,
there were only a few minor details to talk over.
'You two gentlemen,' Gilles said after a slight pause, during which
he had been wondering whether it were a princely thing to do to rise
and take his leave. 'You two gentlemen are alone in the secret of
this enterprise?'
'For the moment, yes,' replied d'Inchy guardedly. 'But others will
have to know ... some might even guess. I shall have to explain the
matter to my private secretary, and one or two members of my Privy
Council have certain rights which we could not disregard.'
'And what about Messire de Montigny?' queried Gilles warily.
'He hath gone to Utrecht to join the Prince of Orange.'
'When doth he return?'
'Not before the summer.'
A short, quick sigh of relief escaped Gilles' lips. At the back of
his mind there had always lurked the ever-present fear of one who
wilfully deceives his fellow-men--the fear of being found out. In
this, Montigny was the greatest, nay! the only danger. With him out
of the way, the chances of discovery became remote.
'To every one else, then, Messire,' he continued more firmly, 'I
shall pass as the Prince de Froidmont.'
'To every one else, Monseigneur,' replied d'Inchy.
'To Madame Jacqueline de Broyart?'
'Certainly, Monseigneur.'
'She hath no suspicions?'
'None.'
'Doth she know that it is your desire she should become the wife of
the Duc d'Anjou ... that she should become my wife, I mean?'
'No, Monseigneur; she does not.'
'Then I have a clear field before me!' he exclaimed gaily.
'A clear field, Monseigneur,' broke in de Lalain firmly, 'for two
weeks.'
'Two weeks?' retorted Gilles with a quick frown. 'Why only two
weeks?'
'Because,' said the other with solemn earnestness, 'because the Duke
of Parma's armies are already swarming over our province. If they
should invest Cambray we could not hold out alone. Monseigneur must
be ready by then to support us with influence, with men and with
money. If you turned your back on us and on the proposed alliance
with a Flemish heiress, we should have to look once more to Orange as
our future Lord.'
'I understand,' rejoined Gilles dryly. ''Tis an "either--or" that
you place before me.'
Then, as d'Inchy remained respectfully silent, M. de Lalain broke in
abruptly:
'Think you, Monseigneur, that the people of the Netherlands, after
all that they have suffered in intolerance and religious persecution,
would accept a Catholic sovereign unless his wife, at least, were of
_their_ nation and of their faith?'
A sharp retort hovered on Gilles' lips; already a curt 'Pardi,
Messire----' had escaped him, when suddenly he paused, listening. A
loud ripple of laughter, merry, sunny, girlish, rang out clearly from
beyond the monumental doors, rising in its joyous cadence above the
oppressive silence and solemnity of this gloomy Palace and the grave
colloquy of Monsieur d'Inchy and his colleagues. Only for a moment,
and the laughter died away again, making the silence and solemnity
seem more gloomy than before. It seemed to Gilles as if it all were
part of that same dream, that it was really intangible and
non-existent, just like these sober seigneurs, like himself, like the
whole situation which had landed him--Gilles de Crohin--into the
midst of this mad adventure.
He threw back his head and laughed in hearty echo. The whole humour
of the situation suddenly struck him with the full force of its
irresistible appeal. Life had been so dull, so drab, so uneventful
of late! Here was romance and excitement and gaiety; a beautiful
maid--Gilles had become suddenly convinced that she was
beautiful--some blows; some knocks; a master to serve; a beautiful,
sorrowing Queen to console; spurs to be won and a fortune to be made!
'And, by Heaven, Messire!' he exclaimed lightly, 'The God of Love
shall favour me. Your ward is exquisite and I am very susceptible.
What are two weeks? 'Tis but two seconds a man requires for losing
his heart to a beautiful wench. And if the fickle god fails me,' he
added with a careless shrug of the shoulders, 'well, where's the
harm? After this--this romantic episode, shall we say?--Madame
Jacqueline will either be Duchesse d'Anjou et d'Alençon, a happy and
worshipped bride, or the Prince de Froidmont will disappear from her
ken as unobtrusively as he came. And you, Messeigneurs,' he
concluded lightly, 'will have to offer the sovereignty of the
Netherlands to one who is worthier than I.'
Neither d'Inchy nor de Lalain appeared to have anything to say after
that. They were both looking moody--even forbidding--for the moment,
though they bowed their heads in humble respect before this prince
whose light-heartedness jarred upon their gravity.
And here the matter ended for the nonce. Gilles took leave of his
stiff-necked hosts and returned to 'Les Trois Rois,' having declared
most solemnly that he must have time to prepare himself for so
strange a wooing. A masked wench; think on it! It changed the whole
aspect of the situation! A respite of four days was, however, all
that was respectfully but firmly granted to him for this preparation,
and Messire Gilles spent the next few hours in trying to devise some
means whereby he could outwit the Flemish lords and catch sight of
Madame Jacqueline ere he formally set out to woo her. Of a truth,
the dull-witted and stodgy Flemings whom _Monsieur_ affected to
despise, had not much to learn in the matter of finesse and diplomacy
from the wily Valois! This counter-stroke on their part was a real
slap-in-the-face to the arrogant prince who was condescending to an
alliance, of which every other reigning house in Europe would have
been proud.