A GOOD DEED COMES HOME TO ROOST
We dashed through the streets of Bidache, arousing the village dogs
asleep in the yellow-sunlight to a chorus of disapprobation. About a
dozen sought to revenge their disturbed slumbers, and, following the
horses, snapped viciously at their heels; but we soon distanced them,
and flinging a curse or so after us, in dog language, they gave up the
pursuit, and returned to blink away the afternoon. It was my intention
to keep to the right of Ivry, and after crossing the Eure, head
straight for Paris, which I would enter either by way of Versailles or
St. Germains; it mattered little what road, and there was plenty of
time to decide.
I have, however, to confess here to a weakness, and that was my
disappointment that Madame had not stayed to see the last of me.
Looking back upon it, I am perfectly aware that I had no right to have
any feeling in the matter whatsoever; but let any one who has been
placed similarly to myself be asked to lay bare his heart--I would
stake my peregrine, Etoile, to a hedge crow on the result.
Madame knew I loved her. She must have seen the hunger in my eyes, as
I watched her come and go, in the days when I lay at Ste. Genevieve,
wounded to death. She must have felt the words I crushed down, I know
not how, when we parted. She knew it all. Every woman knows how a man
stands towards her. I was going away. I might never see her again. It
was little to have waved me Godspeed as I rode on my way, and yet that
little was not given.
In this manner, like the fool I was, I rasped and fretted, easing my
unhappy temper by letting the horse feel the rowels, and swearing at
myself for a whining infant that wept for a slice of the moon.
For a league or so we galloped along the undulating ground which
sloped towards the ford near Ezy; but as we began to approach the
river, the country, studded with apple orchards, and trim with
hedgerows of holly and hawthorn, broke into a wild and rugged
moorland, intersected by ravines, whose depths were concealed by a
tall undergrowth of Christ's Thorn and hornbeam, whilst beyond this,
in russet, in sombre greens, and greys that faded into absolute blue,
stretched the forests and woods of Anet and Croth-Sorel.
In the flood of the mellow sunlight the countless bells of heather
enamelling the roadside were clothed in royal purple, and the brown
tips of the bracken glistened like shafts of beaten gold. At times the
track took its course over the edge of a steep bank, and here we
slackened pace, picking our way over the crumbling earth, covered with
grass, whose growth was choked by a network of twining cranesbill, gay
with its crimson flowers, and listening to the dreamy humming of the
restless bees, and the cheerful, if insistent, skirl of the grass
crickets, from their snug retreats amidst the yarrow and sweet-scented
thyme.
As we slid rather than rode down one of these banks, my horse cast a
shoe, and this put a stop to any further hard riding until the mishap
could be repaired.
'There is a smith at Ezy, monsieur,' said Jacques, 'where we can get
what we want done, and then push on to Rouvres, where there is good
accommodation at the _Grand Cerf_.'
'I suppose Ezy can give us nothing in that way?'
'I doubt much, monsieur, for the place sank to nothing when
Monseigneur the Duc d'Aumale was exiled, and the King, as monsieur is
aware, has given the castle to Madame Gabrielle, for her son, little
_Cesar Monsieur_--the Duc de Vendome.'
'_Morbleu!_ It is well that Madame de Beaufort has not set eyes on
Auriac--eh, Jacques?' and I laughed as I saw the huge grey outlines of
Anet rising in the foreground, and thought how secure my barren,
stormbeaten rock was from the rapacity of the King's mistress.
Jacques came of a rugged race, and my words roused him.
'But M. le Chevalier would never let Auriac fall into the hands of the
King or his Madame? We could man the tower with a hundred stout hearts
and----'
'Swing on the gibbet at the castle gates in two weeks, Jacques. But
remember, we are loyal subjects now, and are going to Paris to serve
the King.'
'As for me,' answered Jacques, obstinately, 'I serve my master, the
Chevalier de Breuil d'Auriac, and none besides.'
In this manner we jogged along, making but slow progress, and the sun
was setting when we came in view of the willow-lined banks of the
Eure, and entered the walnut groves of the outlying forest in which
Ezy lay. As we approached we saw that the village was three parts
deserted, and the ruined orchards and smokeless chimneys told their
own tale. Turning a bend of the grass-grown road we came upon a few
children shaking walnuts from a tree, about two hundred paces from us,
whilst a man and a woman stood hard by observing them. At the sight of
us the woman turned to the man with an alarmed gesture, and he half
drew a sword--we saw the white flash, and then, changing his mind, ran
off into the forest. The children followed suit, sliding down the
trunk of the tree, and fleeing into the brushwood, looking for all the
world like little brown rabbits as they dashed into the gaps in the
thorn.
As for the woman, she turned slowly and began to walk towards the
village.
'They are very bashful here, Jacques,' I said, quickening my pace.
'Except the lady, monsieur,' and then we trotted up alongside her.
Reining in, I asked if she could direct me to the blacksmith's, for
there seemed no sign of a forge about. She made no answer but stopped
and stared at us through her hair, which fell in thick masses over her
forehead and neck. As she did this I saw that she appeared to be of
the superior peasant class, but evidently sunk in poverty. She was
young, and her features so correct that with circumstances a little
altered she would have been more than ordinarily good-looking. At
present, however, the face was wan with privation, and there was a
frightened look in her eyes. I repeated my question in as gentle a
tone as I could command, and she found tongue.
'There is none here, monsieur; but at Anet you will find everything.
That is the way, see!' and she pointed down a winding glade, lit up
here and there with bars of sunlight until it faded into a dark tunnel
of over-arching trees. I felt convinced from her tone and manner that
she was trying to put us off, and Jacques burst in.
'Nonsense, my girl, I know there is a smith at Ezy, for but two days
back one of Madame of Bidache's horses was shod here. You don't know
your own village--try and think.'
'There is none,' she said shortly.
'Very well,' said Jacques, 'we won't trouble you further, and we will
find out for ourselves. It will not be difficult.'
We went on a pace or so, when she called out after us.
'Monsieur!'
'What is it?'
She stood twisting the ends of her apron between her fingers and then,
suddenly,
'Monsieur, pardon, I will guide you.'
'Oh! that is all very well,' began Jacques; but I interrupted him,
wondering a little to myself what this meant.
'Very well and thanks.'
She dropped a courtesy, and then asked with a timid eagerness,
'Monsieur does not come from the Blaisois?'
'_Ma foi!_ No! This is hardly the way from the Orleannois; but lead
on, please, it grows late.'
She glanced up again, a suspicion in her eyes, and then without
another word went on before us. We followed her down the winding
grass-grown lane, past a few straggling cottages where not a soul was
visible, and up through the narrow street, where the sight of us drove
the few wretched inhabitants into their tumble-down houses, as if we
had the plague itself at our saddle bows. Finally we stopped before a
cottage of some pretensions to size; but decayed and worn, as all else
was in this village, which seemed but half alive. Over the entrance to
the cottage hung a faded signboard, marking that it was the local
hostelry, and to the right was a small shed, apparently used as a
workshop; and here the smith was, seated on a rough bench, gazing into
space.
He rose at our approach and made as if he would be off; but his
daughter, as the young woman turned out to be, gave him a sign to
stay, and he halted, muttering something I could not catch; and as I
looked at the gloomy figure of the man, and the musty inn, I said out
aloud, '_Morbleu!_ But it is well we have time to mend our trouble and
make Rouvres; thanks, my girl, you might have told us at once instead
of making all this fuss,' and bending from the saddle I offered our
guide a coin. She fairly snatched at it, and then, colouring up,
turned and ran into the inn. I threw another coin to the smith and
bade him set about shoeing the horse.
He shuffled this way and that, and then answered dully that he would
do the job willingly, but it would take time--two hours.
'But it will be night by then,' I expostulated, 'and I have to go on;
I cannot stay here.'
'As monsieur chooses,' answered the clod; 'but, you see, I have
nothing ready, and I am slow now; I cannot help it.'
'This is a devil of a place,' I exclaimed, resigning myself to
circumstances, and, dismounting, handed the reins to Jacques. As I did
so I heard voices from the inn, one apparently that of the girl, and
the other that of a man, and it would seem that she was urging
something; but what it was I could not catch, nor was I curious as to
the point of discussion; but it struck me that as we had to wait here
two hours it would be well to inquire if I could get some refreshment
for ourselves and a feed for the beasts. For answer to my question I
got a gruff 'Go and ask my daughter,' from the smith, who turned as he
spoke and began to fumble with his tools. I felt my temper rising
hotly, but stayed my arm, and bidding Jacques keep an eye on the
horses, stepped towards the door of the inn. As I put my hand on it to
press it open some one from within made an effort to keep it shut; but
I was in no mood to be trifled with further, and, pushing back the
door without further ceremony, stepped in. In doing so I thrust some
one back a yard or so, and found that it was the girl who was trying
to bar me out. Ashamed of the violence I had shown, I began to
apologise, whilst she stood before me rubbing her elbow, and her face
flushed and red. The room was bare and drear beyond description. There
were a couple of rough tables, a chair or so, an iron pot simmering
over a fire of green wood whose pungent odour filled the chamber. In a
corner a man lay apparently asleep, a tattered cloak drawn over his
features so as to entirely conceal them. I felt in a moment that this
was the stranger who had fled on our approach, and that he was playing
fox. Guessing there was more behind this than appeared, but not
showing any suspicions in the least, I addressed the girl.
'I am truly sorry, and hope you are not hurt; had I known it was you I
should have been gentler. I have but come to ask if I can get some
wine for ourselves and food for the horses.'
'It is nothing,' she stammered, 'I am not hurt. There is but a little
soup here, and for the horses--the grass that grows outside.'
'There is some wine there at any rate,' and I rested my eye on a horn
cup, down whose side a red drop was trickling, and then let it fall on
the still figure in the corner of the room. 'There is no fear,' I
continued, 'you will be paid. I do not look like a gentleman of the
road, I trust?'
She shrank back at my words, and it appeared as if a hand moved
suddenly under the cloak of the man who lay feigning sleep in the
room, and the quick movement was as if he had clutched the haft of a
dagger. I was never a brawler or blusterer, and least of all did I
wish to worry these poor people; but the times were such that a man's
safety lay chiefly in himself, for the writ of the King ran weak in
the outlying districts. The whole business, too, was so strange that I
was determined to fathom it; and, unbuckling my sword, I placed it on
a table so as to be ready on the instant, and then, seating myself on
a stool beside it, said somewhat sharply,
'Enough, my girl; get me some wine and take out some to my servant.
This will pay for it,' and I rang a fat crown piece on the table.
'Hurry your father if you can, and I will be gone the moment my horse
is shod.'
My tone was one not to be denied, and taking up the money she turned
to a cupboard and with shaking fingers drew a bottle therefrom and
placed it before me. Filling a cup I asked her to bear it out to
Jacques, and then leaning back against the wall took a pull at my own
goblet, and judge of my surprise when I found I was tasting nothing
short of d'Arbois of the '92 vintage!
As I sipped my wine, and speculated how it came there, the girl came
back, and seeing that matters were as before began to attend to her
cooking. Whatever she had said to the smith apparently had the effect
of rousing him to greater activity, for through the open door I heard
the puffing of his bellows, and very soon came the clang, clang of his
hammer as he beat out a shoe.
It was getting dark now within the room, over which the flames of the
fire occasionally blazed up and cast a fitful and uncertain light.
Outside, however, there was a moon; and, in a few minutes at the most,
my horse would be shod and I would have to continue my journey without
having discovered what this little mystery meant. I could not help
being a little amused at the manner in which my bashful friend, whose
face was so well covered up, kept himself a prisoner in his corner.
But at this moment the girl's cooking was finished, and the savoury
odour of it was apparently more than he could endure, for he suddenly
sprang to his feet exclaiming,
'_Nom du diable!_ I am sick of this, and hungry as a wolf. Give me my
supper, Marie, and if he wants to take me let him do so if he can; he
will have to fight an old soldier first.'
As he spoke I distinctly saw his hand indicate me, and with an alarmed
cry the girl sprang between us. It flashed upon me that my gentleman
was, after all, only some one who was wanted, and that he regarded me
with as much apprehension as I had regarded him with caution.
'Tush!' I said, 'you good people make a great fuss over nothing. I
certainly do not want to take you, my man, and neither you nor your
little sweetheart here need be in the least alarmed.'
I had hardly finished speaking when he rushed forward.
'It is the Chevalier! It is Monsieur d'Auriac! Idiot, turkey, pig that
I am to have kept my eyes shut and not recognised you. Monsieur, do
you not know me--Nicholas--your sergeant, whom you saved from the
rope?'
'Where you appear likely to go again, Nicholas; but what are you
skulking about here for?' The wood in the fireplace blazed up as I
spoke, and I saw Nicholas shift uneasily and look at the girl, who had
moved to his side, and stood with her hands holding on to his cloak.
'This place was my home once, monsieur,' he said bitterly, 'and I have
come back to it.'
'I see you have, sergeant; but why in this way?'
'Monsieur, I was driven to straits and did a thing. Then they hunted
me from Dreux to Rouvres, from Rouvres to Anet----'
'Where you appear to have made free with the duke's cellar, eh?'
'It is not so, monsieur,' burst in the girl; 'neither he nor we have
done that. The wine you have drunk was a gift from madame the
duchess.'
There was truth in every line of her features, in the fierce little
gesture with which she turned upon me in defence of her lover. I was
sorry to let my tongue bite so hard, and said so, and went on with my
inquiries.
'And from Anet you came here?'
'It is but a stone-throw,' Nicholas answered, 'and I had a business in
hand. After which we were going away.'
Whilst he was speaking Marie lit a lantern, and I saw that my
ex-sergeant was evidently in the lowest water. He had been a smart
soldier, but was now unkempt and dirty, and his eye had the shifty
look of a hunted animal. He wore a rusty corselet and a rustier chain
cap on his head, drawn over a bandage that covered his ears. As my eye
fell on the bandage I called to mind the mutilation that had been
inflicted on him, a brand that had cast him out of the pale of all
honest men. Nicholas watched my glance, and ground his teeth with
rage.
'I will kill him,' he hissed, 'kill him like the dog he is. Monsieur,
that was my business!'
'Then de Gomeron----'
'Is but an hour's ride away, monsieur--at Anet.'
'At Anet! What does he do there?'
'Monsieur,' he answered hoarsely, taking me by the sleeve of my
doublet, 'I know not; but a fortnight ago he came here with a score of
lances at his back and the King's commission in his pocket, and he
lords it as if he were the duke himself. Yesterday a great noble came
up from the Blaisois, and another whose name I know not has come from
Paris; and they hatch treason against the King. Monsieur, I can prove
this. You saved my life once, and, beast as I am now, I am still
grateful. Come with me. I will settle my score with him; and to-morrow
you can bear news to the court that will make you a great man.'
It was one of those moments that require instant decision. I was
certainly not going to assist Nicholas in committing a murder. Any
such plan of his could be easily stopped, but if what the man said was
true, then he had given me information that might be of the greatest
value to me. If it was false--well then, I should have a fool's errand
for my pains, but be otherwise none the worse off. There was no time
to question him in detail; for a second I was silent, and Marie looked
from one to another of us with wide-open eyes.
'You have a horse?' I asked.
'Yes, monsieur. It is hidden in the forest not three hundred toises
from here.'
'We are ready. Monsieur le Chevalier,' and Jacques' voice broke in
upon us, Jacques himself standing in the doorway. My mind was made up
that instant, and I decided to take the chance.
'Jacques,' I said, 'I have business here to-night, which must be done
alone. Ride on therefore yourself to Rouvres and await me at the
_Grand Cerf_. If anyone tries to hinder you, say that you ride for
your master in the King's name. If I am not at Rouvres by morning,
make your way to Septeuil. If I do not arrive in two days, go home
and do the best you can for yourself. You follow?
'Monsieur.'
'Adieu, then; and Marie, here is something as a wedding portion for
you,' and I thrust a handful of gold pieces into her palm, and, being
moved by many things, added: 'When this is over, you and Nicholas go
to Auriac. I will arrange for you there.'
The girl stared blankly at me for a moment, then suddenly caught my
hand and kissed it, and then with a rapid movement flung herself into
her lover's arms.
'No,' she said, 'no; take back your gift, monsieur. He will not go.'
'Nonsense, Marie,' and Nicholas gently released her arms. 'I have come
back to you to mend my ways, and must begin by paying my debts. Come,
monsieur.'