We must give a glance beyond the waters. "What waters?" The reader may
ask, "the waters of time?"
No, alas, that we cannot do. Let the eager eye stretch as it will,
aided by whatever glass the ingenuity of man can devise, or his
presumption use, that wide horizon will never present any object
distinctly. A mirage may raise the images which lie beyond the scope
of natural vision; but, after all, it is a fading picture, where
everything is indistinct, uncertain, and confused.
No, the waters that I speak of are those which flow between the white
cliffs of England and the shores of France; and I leap over no
particle of time; for the day and hour were the same as those of which
I have just been speaking; and it is to keep up the perfect
synchronism of my narrative that I am obliged to change the scene, and
travel all the way to France, carrying the unwilling reader with me.
It was in a small room, lined with shadowy tapestry and ceiled with
black oak, carved in a strange and peculiar fashion--in the form of
pentagons, piled one upon the other, and each centred with a little
gilded star--that there was seated, towards the first hour of the
morning, an elderly man of dignified though quiet aspect, habited in
the robes of a bishop. Near the door stood two ecclesiastics,
with a boy of some fourteen years of age between them, apparently
equipped for a journey.
"And you are sure you know every step of the way, my son?" said the
bishop, fixing his eyes upon the boy, and speaking in French.
"As well as I know the steps to my mother's door, my lord," answered
the boy.
The bishop mused, and motioned one of the ecclesiastics to come
nearer. The good man approached, and bent down his head, till his ear
was on a level with the prelate's lips; and then, in reply to a
whispered question, which the other seemed to ask him, he exclaimed--
"Oh, I will be his surety, my lord; for he ran between the armies, in
the times of the late troubles with Britanny, and never betrayed his
trust in a single instance."
"Well then, take him away for the present," said the bishop; "and I
will write the letter at once; for there is no time to be lost,
Entreat him kindly, and feed him well before he goes. I will call when
I want him."
The two priests and the boy retired; and, when left alone, the bishop
took some little time for thought.
"So far all is safe," he said to himself. "Once more I am upon these
hospitable shores of France; and my escape is well nigh a miracle. I
trust no evil has befallen those who were, under God, my kind
preservers. That dear child, I trust she got safely back to the arms
of her good aunt, the abbess. 'Tis very strange, how often, by the
merest seeming accidents, a kindness shown to a fellow creature
returns to bless us after many years. Nor has man's gratitude any
great share in it; for how rarely do we find anything like gratitude,
especially amongst the high and noble. Often too, those whom we have
served have gone away from earth, and cannot show gratitude, if they
would; yet still the good deed rises up, in after years, to shelter
us, as a tree against a storm. Little did I think, when I entreated
for St. Leger's life, and not only won it against all odds, but
obtained that his estates should be not confiscated to the crown, but
transferred for life to his brother, with a provision reserved for
himself--little did I think that his sister would shelter me at the
peril of all worldly good, and his daughter would guide me to escape
in safety."
"Now for another act," he continued, drawing a sheet of paper towards
him. "I pray God this may be for the benefit of my country. Gratitude,
in this instance, I want not, expect not, and shall not obtain. It is
not in his nature--well, if he turn not and rend me! It matters not;
it is right and shall be done. Better a cold and greedy prince upon
the throne, than a murdering usurper. This man must labour for a
people's good, for his own interest's sake; and then a marriage with
the heiress of York will cure all divisions, and heal the wounds of my
bleeding country."
He still seemed to hesitate, however; for although he had drawn a
sheet of paper to him, and taken pen in hand, he did not write for
several minutes.
"It must be done," he said at length; and, when he began, his letter
was soon finished.
"There," he said, when it was completed. "Now he can act as he sees
meet. If he be wise, and occasion serves, he will say no word to this
weak duke of Britanny, even should he be in one of his lucid moments,
but will fly at once to France, where, thanks to my efforts, all is
prepared to give him friendly reception. If revenge get the
mastery--and he has no small share of it in his nature--he will
endeavour to strike at Peter Landais, and be given bound into the
hands of Richard. Then farewell to England. Stay, I will add a few
words more of caution and advice; for I must needs enclose the
despatch obtained by my good friend, the woodman, to let him see the
extent and nature of his danger."
The postscript to his letter was soon written, the paper, which the
woodman had given him, enclosed, the letter tied with the silk, and
sealed; and the boy was then recalled and charged with the packet.
Manifold were the directions given him, as to how he was to conceal
the dangerous despatch; and the youth, who seemed quick and active,
retired furnished with a packet of ordinary letters, addressed to the
Marquis Dorset, and several other English noblemen then living in
exile at the court of Britanny.
His weight was light, the horse prepared for him strong and active;
and, mounting in the court-yard, he set out upon his way, passing
through the heart of Normandy in perfect security. Séez, Alençon were
reached; and, shortly after, the peril of the enterprise began; but he
knew all the roads well, and, after sleeping at a small village on the
confines of Normandy, he rose some hours before daylight, and made his
way through narrow lanes into the duchy of Britanny, under cover of
the darkness.
It is rare that a journey is performed with so little difficulty, even
when there are much fewer dangers; but the messenger met with no
impediment till he reached the town of Rennes, where his horse was
detained for several hours, on the pretence that so fine an animal
could not fairly belong to a youth of his appearance. But the letters
he produced, addressed to the Marquis Dorset, accounted for his
possession of the animal; and, though there was not wanting
inclination on the part of Landais' officers to seize it, for their
own or their master's use, they did not venture to do so; for it was a
part of the treacherous minister's policy to lull the English exiles
into security by seeming kindness, till he could deliver them into the
hands of Richard.
The letters, however, were strictly examined, and, when returned to
the boy, had evidently been opened; but the secret despatches,
concealed in the large wooden boot which he wore, passed undiscovered.
The contents of the letters, which had been read, only served to
convince Landais that his meditated treachery was unknown to the
friends of the exiles in England.
Hastening on with all speed from Rennes to Vannes, the boy nearly
accomplished the distance of more than twenty leagues in one day; but
he arrived at night, and was forced to remain till morning at a small
inn in the suburb, on the right bank of the river Marle. He there
gathered intelligence, however, of some importance. A strong body of
archers, he learned, had entered Vannes the day before, and the earl
of Richmond, with many of his chief friends and followers, had sought
hospitality at the fine old abbey of St. Gildas, situated on a little
peninsula in the neighbourhood. Thither then, on the following
morning, he took his way; but he did not arrive in the court of the
abbey till the earl and his companions were just mounting their horses
to set out upon some early expedition. The boy's shrewd eyes instantly
detected, amongst those present, several who were not Englishmen; and,
with the keen good sense for which he had been selected for that
mission, he determined at once upon his course. The earl of Richmond
he had never seen; but, perceiving that to one particular person there
present, a spare but somewhat forbidding-looking man, all the others
paid much reverence, he walked up to him with a letter in his hand,
and asked if he were the Marquis Dorset.
"No," answered Richmond, who had his foot in the stirrup, to mount.
"Yonder he stands. Is that letter for him?"
"Yes, my lord," replied the boy; "but I have several others from
England."
"Have you any for me, the earl of Richmond?" asked the other; and,
dropping his voice to a low tone, the boy replied:
"I have a word for the earl of Richmond's private ear."
"Deliver your letters, and then come back to me," said Richmond, in
the same low tone; and then he added, aloud, "Here is a little courier
from England, my lords and gentlemen, with letters from home, for most
of you, but none for me. Take them and read them. We can well afford
to put off our ride for half an hour. In the mean time, I will
question the boy as to the news of our native land--Here, Bernard,
hold my horse. Boy, give them their letters, and then come with me."
"Why, this has been opened," cried the marquis of Dorset, looking at
the epistle which he received from the boy's hands.
"I know it has, noble sir," answered the boy aloud. "All my letters
were taken from me at Rennes, and, when they were returned, I could
see they had been read."
"Out, young cur," cried one of the Landais' officers, who was present.
"Say you the people of the duke of Britanny would open your letters?
Doubtless you opened them yourself."
"Not so, noble sir," answered the lad; "for, alas, I cannot read."
"Well, well, come with me," said Richmond, seeing that the nobles
crowding round him had taken the packet, which the boy had held in his
hand, and were distributing them amongst themselves, according to the
superscription. "This way, lad--permit the boy to pass, reverend
father;" and entering the abbey by a small door, at which appeared an
old monk, he walked onward, followed closely by the boy, till he
reached his bed-chamber.
"Now, what have you to say to me?" he exclaimed eagerly.
But the boy, before he answered, closed the door behind him, and
pushed the bolt.
"I have a packet for you, noble lord," replied the boy; "but I was
ordered to deliver it to your own hand in private, and I have kept it
concealed from all eyes, here in my boot."
"Then the people at Rennes did not find it?" asked Richmond, sharply.
"No one has ever seen it, from the moment I received it," answered the
boy. "That I will swear to; for I have slept in my boots; and, when I
took them off for ease, I kept them always in my sight."
The boots of an unarmed courier or post of that day were of a kind, I
believe, now utterly banished from use, but which might still be seen
in France, amongst postilions, at the end of the last war. They
consisted of an inner covering of leather, with large and
rudely-shaped pieces of light wood, fastened round them with straps of
leather, to guard the leg against any blow or accident. Out of these
cumbrous appendages, the boy had withdrawn his feet while he was
speaking; and now, unbuckling the wooden cases from the leather, he
opened a little sliding lid in one of the former, and drew forth the
packet which Morton had entrusted to him. Richmond took it eagerly;
but, with his usual cool observing spirit, before he opened it, he
looked carefully at the silk and the seal, to ascertain that it had
not been examined previously. Satisfied on that point, he cut the
fastening, broke the seal, and read the contents. His countenance,
though the boy's eye fixed upon it while he read, gave no indication
of what was passing in his mind. It was cold, quiet, resolute. When he
had done, he thought in silence for a moment or two; and then looking
at the lad, he said--
"Thou hast performed thy task well. There is gold for thee. Were I
richer it should be more. Now tell me how it came that they chose one
so young to carry tidings of some import?"
"Because I knew every inch of the country well," replied the boy;
"because I had carried many letters between the armies in the time of
the war, and because my mother, and father Julien, said that I was
honest."
"Good reasons," said Richmond; "knowledge, experience, honesty. I
think you deserved your character. Do you know the country between
this and Tours well?"
"Every part of it," replied the boy.
"And between this and Angers?" asked Richmond again.
"As well as the other," answered the boy.
"Well, then," said Richmond, "open the door and call one of my valets.
I retain you in my service, if you are free."
"Oh yes, my lord, I am free and willing," replied the boy; for there
was that in the manner of the future king of England which, though dry
and cold, and somewhat stern, inspired respect; and the boy's
character was peculiar too. The man who knows how to command will
always find those who are willing to obey; and the attachments
inspired by the strong-minded and the stern are often more rapid,
generally more permanent, than the affection excited by the weak and
gentle.
The boy's nature was brief and laconic; and, as soon as he had made
his answer, he went out into the passage, and sought one of the
attendants of the earl, with whom he returned to his presence.
"Take care of that boy," said Richmond, to the man, "and bring him to
me as soon as I return. Treat him well, and let him have whatever he
wants; for he has rendered me service."
"Thus saying, he walked out into the court again, assuming a moody and
somewhat discontented air. The reading of his letters and his
conversation with the boy had not occupied five minutes; and some of
the English gentlemen were still studying the epistles they had
received in the court."
"You have been very brief, my lord," said the Marquis Dorset,
thrusting his letter into his pocket. "What news did the boy give you?
I have little or none."
"I have none at all," answered Richmond. "The boy only came from
Rouen, I find. The English messenger stopped there. So I must wait for
another long tedious fortnight before I get intelligence. I am glad to
hear from Rennes, however, my Lord of Morlaix," he added, addressing
one of the Breton gentlemen, who had been placed with him more as a
guard than an attendant, "that your noble duke is perfectly recovered,
and gone towards Maine for better air, to give him strength again."
"Indeed, my lord. I had not heard it," answered the gentleman he
addressed.
"It is true, notwithstanding," answered Richmond. "Come, gentlemen,
let us mount;" and, springing on his horse, he rode forth, followed by
his whole train.
As he went, he continued to talk of the duke of Britanny's recovery,
in a public and open manner, addressing some of his observations to
the Bretons who accompanied him.
"I fear," he said at length, "that his highness may think me somewhat
remiss if I do not go to compliment him on his recovery."
He remarked a slight frown come upon the face of Morlaix, as he spoke;
and that gentleman ventured to say--
"Perhaps, my lord the earl, it might be better to send a messenger
first, giving some intimation of your purpose; for his highness, if
you recollect--"
"I know what you would say," replied Richmond, as he paused and
hesitated. "His highness assigned me my residence at Vannes; and I am
well aware that observance of a prince's wishes is of more importance
than any mere point of ceremony. You, Dorset, are in the same case;
but, in this instance, happily we can do both; remain at the spot
assigned us, and yet show our gladness at our princely friend's
recovery. We will send every man, not tied down to this spot as we
are, to offer our sincere congratulations, and to show that we do not
come ourselves solely front respect for his commands."
"That, my lord, is indeed obviating all difficulties," said Morlaix,
with a smile; "and doubtless," he added hypocritically, "you will soon
receive an invitation to the court, to receive the honours due to your
station."
Richmond's face expressed no satisfaction at this answer; and, turning
to the rest of the English exiles, he merely said--
"Well, gentlemen, we will not ride far or fast to-day, as you will
need your horses for a longer journey to-morrow. I will write a letter
of compliment to his highness, which you shall deliver for me, and
explain that I only regret I could not be my own messenger. Monsieur
de Morlaix, if you will do me the honour of breaking your fast with
me, at an early hour to-morrow, we will see these gentlemen depart."
The other bowed with all due reverence, and, with much satisfaction,
seeing that the arrest of the earl of Richmond, and his delivery into
the hands of Richard's emissaries, which he knew was meditated by
Landais, would be much more easily effected, during the absence of so
large a body of the earl's friends and followers, than it could be
while they so closely surrounded his person. It was necessary however
for the Breton to obtain distinct directions as to how he should act;
and, as soon as he returned to the abbey of St. Gildas, he despatched
letters to Landais, informing him of the proposed movements of
Richmond's friends, and requiring orders for his guidance.
While he was thus occupied, the young messenger from the bishop of Ely
was again brought into the earl's presence, and the door closed and
bolted. Richmond eyed him for a moment attentively, and then said--
"What do you know, lad, of the contents of the packet you brought me?"
"Nothing, my lord," replied the boy.
"What do you guess?" demanded Richmond, who seemed to comprehend and
be comprehended at once.
"That your lordship is in peril from something," replied the other.
"Why do you guess that?" asked Richmond.
"Because I was told to be secret and swift," answered the boy, "to
destroy the packet if there was danger of its being taken, and to find
means of telling you, if I should be prevented from delivering it, to
be upon your guard against enemies. Moreover, I heard last night that
three hundred archers had marched into Vannes in the morning."
"Ha!" said the earl. "I heard not of that. They are rapid, it would
seem. Now, young man, are you willing to serve me well?"
"Right willing," replied the boy.
"Can you guide me, by the shortest and most secret ways, hence to the
town of Angers?" demanded Richmond.
"None better," said the boy.
"Well then, you shall do it," said Richmond; "but be silent and
secret. Utter no word of what I say to you, even to those who seem my
dearest friends. I have an expedition to make to Angers, to take
counsel with persons much in my interest there; but none must know of
my going. That is all. Stay, a word or two more," he continued,
thoughtfully. "It were as well that none should remark your staying
here, or know that we hold private conference together. It may seem as
if the news you brought from Rouen was of sufficient import to justify
suspicion. I will send you into Vannes. Stay there at the suburb at
the Golden Dolphin, and mind you chatter not."
"I chatter little, my lord," said the boy.
"I trust so and believe it, my good lad," replied Richmond; "but it
sometimes happens that youths like you, when speaking to persons of
superior station, are silent and discreet enough, and yet find a noisy
and loquacious tongue when with their fellows. But I will not doubt
you. You must have been proved, ere Morton trusted you. Only remember,
that if you are not now discreet, you may lose a good master, who will
make your fortune should you prove worthy."
"I will not lose him," said the boy.
"To-morrow night I will speak with you more," said Richmond; "do you
know a place near Vannes called Carnac?"
"What, where the great stones lie?" asked the lad. "Many a time I have
played amongst those stones, when I was eight years old."
"Then meet me there with your horse, just at the hour of sunset,
to-morrow evening," the earl replied. "Set off upon the road to
Rennes. Turn round by the great fish-ponds, and wait between the first
and second line of stones till I arrive--though I may tarry a little,
still wait."
"I will, my lord," replied the boy, and left the earl's presence.
He kept his word to the letter; for, though he laughed, and jested,
and talked with the people of the little cabaret where he put up, the
name of the earl of Richmond never escaped his lips. He talked of the
long journey he had had, and of how tired his horse was, and
complained a little that the Marquis Dorset had not paid him for his
services.
"Doubtless you are well paid before," said the landlord of the inn, to
whom he spoke. "You seem a sharp boy, and not one to go without
payment."
The lad laughed, and said nothing, confirming the man's suspicions,
that he had desired somewhat more than his due. Upon the pretence of
his horse needing repose, he continued to linger where he was during
the whole of that day and great part of the next, always talking of
going back to Rouen, till, at length, when evening approached, he paid
his score and departed. The landlord remarked, as he went away, "Ay,
there goes a young truant, who will be scolded roundly, I will
warrant, for lingering so long, and yet will not want an excuse for
his tardiness."
Slowly jogging on his way, the boy rode even somewhat farther than
Richmond had directed him. But, to say the truth, he knew the country
better than the earl himself; and he knew also the habits of the
place, which brought to the point at which Richmond had told him to
turn off, a considerable number of the country people, going into
Vannes, at that hour, to hear the evening service, at the church of
St. Paterne. Passing completely round the large tank or fish-pond
there, he approached the great Druidical temple of Carnac--the most
remarkable, perhaps, in the world--just as the sun was setting; and,
dismounting from his horse, he stood and gazed forth at the bright
sky, with interest very different from that which he might have felt
had he known where he stood. The boy was ignorant indeed of all the
historical associations connected with the place. He had never heard
of Druids, or Celts, nor of any other religion but the Roman Catholic;
but yet there was a curious sort of solemn grandeur in that scene,
with the thousands and thousands of tall stones, most of them then
standing upright in their five curious ranges, with the rosy coloured
light of the evening sky pouring in amongst them, which produced a
sensation almost akin to awe in his young though not very imaginative
heart.
"This is a strange place," he thought. "I wonder what it means? These
stones must have been put here by somebody. Perhaps they intended to
build a church here long long ago. But why should they spread them out
so far and set them all on end. It can't have been for a church
either. But they are all dead and gone, that's clear, and the stones
remain;" and his mind being then led on from point to point, by some
process within himself, he said, "I wonder what will become of me. It
is very droll, one can never tell what is to happen to oneself
afterwards. That earl said he would make my fortune. What will that
fortune be, I wonder?"
The sun gradually sank, and all was darkness; but shortly after a pale
gleam, coming upon some clouds to the eastward, showed that some other
light was coming; and the moon soared up in time, and shed her light
over the same scene. The boy looked round him somewhat timidly. He
began almost to fancy that ghosts of the dead might haunt those solemn
places. All remained still and quiet, however, till at length he heard
the sound of horses' feet, and ventured to look out. The riders were
not near enough for him to see anything, however; for the night was so
still that he heard them afar. At length they came nearer and nearer;
and, taking his stand at his horse's side, he gazed along the line of
stones till four horsemen rode in and approached him.
"Mount and come on," said the voice of Richmond; and the boy sprang
into the saddle at once. The earl had not stopped to speak the words,
and, ere the lad was mounted, he had ridden on some hundred yards, as
it seems in a wrong direction, for he speedily heard a low voice,
saying, "To the right, my lord. It is safer and shorter."
"But this is the road to La Roche Bernard," replied Richmond, turning,
and eyeing him by the moonlight.
"But you must not go by La Roche," replied the lad, "but by Redon and
Nozay. We will cross the Villaine near Redon. Then there is nothing to
stop you till you get to Nozay, neither towns nor castles, but sandy
tracks through the bushes. There is the castle of Furette, indeed; but
it was burnt in the last war, and there is no one in it."
"Play me not false," said Richmond, in a threatening tone, but turning
his rein at the same time in the direction the boy pointed out. "Ride
here," he continued, "between me and this good lord. Now tell me, how
far is it to Angers by this road?"
"Some twenty-six leagues, my lord," replied the lad, "and by the other
more than thirty."
"You are right there," said the Marquis Dorset.
"And what will one find on the other side of Nozay?" asked the earl.
"Nothing to stop you, sir," said the boy; "between it and Angers there
is the little village of Conde, where you can bait your horses; and
there is a good road thence to Angers, with nothing but hamlets or
scattered farm-houses, till you reach the town. No one would be able
to take you from Redon to Nozay but myself--at least, nobody at
Vannes; but from Nozay to Angers you could go by yourself if you
liked."
"You seem to know it well," said Richmond.
"I was born at Nozay," replied the boy.
There the conversation stopped; and they rode on in silence for some
time, going at a very quick pace, till at length the Earl said,
"We must spare our horses a little, or they will hardly bear us out.
Twenty-six leagues; think you we can do it in one day, boy?"
"Oh, yes, my lord," replied the boy, "if your beasts be strong and
willing. The night is fresh, and the ground soft; and we can afford to
stop and feed the horses at Nozay, for, if any one comes after us, a
thousand to one they will take the other road."
"That is one recommendation to yours at all events," said Dorset,
laughing; "and the ground is soft enough indeed, for it seems to me as
if we were entering a morass."
"So we are," answered the boy, coolly. "We had better ride one by one.
Then if I make a mistake, I shall be the first to pay for it."
Thus saying, he rode on boldly and rapidly, till, at the end of about
half a league, the swampy ground ceased, and the country began to rise
a little. Ascending by gradual slopes the road which they now
followed, and which was clearly enough defined by its sandy colour,
gained a considerable elevation above the sea; and Richmond was just
in the act of observing that they must have got at least eight miles
from Vannes, when they heard the distant report of a cannon boom upon
the air, and Dorset exclaimed:
"What may that mean?"
"That they have found out you are gone," said the boy, laughing.
"Did it seem to come from Vannes?" demanded Richmond.
"To a certainty," answered the boy. "The wind sets this way; but it is
our own fault if they catch us now."
No other indication of pursuit reached their ears as they pursued
their way, till at length the boy, pointing forward with his hand,
said:
"There is Redon. You can either go through the town or by the ford.
The ford is shortest."
"And safest too, in all probability," replied Richmond.
"I think they could hear that gun," said the boy, "if they could but
make out what it meant."
"Then take the ford, by all means," said Richmond; and, pursuing a
narrow path to the left, which ran some way up the river, the lad led
them to the bank of the stream, and passed safely through, though the
water rose to the horse's girths. The rest followed; and, turning over
the shoulder of the hill, at the end of a few miles, they entered a
wild and desolate track, where woods and bushes seemed scattered over
a wide extent of shifting sand, amidst which all vestige of a road
seemed lost. Straight on went the boy, however, without pause or
hesitation, appearing to be guided, in finding his way back to his
native place, by the same sort of instinct which is possessed by dogs
and some kinds of pigeons.
All seemed so dark--for the moon had by this time gone down--so wild,
so trackless, that Richmond at length exclaimed, with anxious
sternness:
"Are you sure you are right, boy?"
"Quite sure," replied the boy; and on he went, leading the way through
one wide patch of bushes, round the angle of a little wood, down a
little dell, across a rivulet, up a slope, into another track wilder
than before, as if not a tree had been cut down or a bush grubbed up
since last he was there.
"There comes morning," he said at length. "We shall reach Nosey just
at break of day."
"And right glad will my horse be to get there," said Dorset; "for he
is well nigh knocked up. He has been stumbling at every step for the
last hour."
"Food will set him up," said the boy, "and that he can soon have.
There is Bohalard and its windmill, to the right, peeping through the
dusk, like a great giant with his arms stretched out to catch us."
The sight of the windmill, and the boy's instant recognition of it,
relieved Richmond a good deal; for he had not been able to divest his
mind of some doubts as to his young guide's accuracy; for the country
had been so wild and trackless, that it seemed impossible to him for
any one accurately to remember every step of the way, and one mistake
must have been irretrievable in the darkness. A few minutes more set
him at rest completely; for as the air grew lighter every moment, he
perceived at no great distance in advance a tower upon an elevated
spot, and a little beyond that again, but lower down, the spire of a
church.
"What is that tower, boy?" he asked, as they rode on.
"It is called Beauvais, my lord," replied the lad; "and that is the
church of Nozay."
"Then let us slacken our pace a little," said Richmond, and, according
to the boy's prediction, they rode into the small town just as the sun
was rising.
"Here, stop here," said the boy, drawing in his horse's rein before a
house, which seemed somewhat like an inn of the second or third class;
"this is not the best cabaret, but the landlord is the honestest man;"
and, by thundering with his fists at the large gate, he soon brought
forth some of the inmates from their beds.
"Ah, petit!" cried the landlord, who was amongst the first; "is that
you again, Pierre la Brousse? and so you have brought me some guests."
"Who must have food for themselves and horses, in a minute, father,"
replied the boy, "for they want to be in Angers before mass."
"They'll hardly manage that," said the landlord, looking at the
horses; "however we must do what we can. Come in, come in. Jacques
tend the horses. Come, in, Pierre."
"No, I must up to the top of the church," said the boy, "to see who
comes after; for Maître Landais is no friend of mine, and, if his
people catch me, I shall taste hemp. So keep my horse saddled while he
feeds. The gentlemen can do as they like, for they can find their way
now; but I'll be away as soon as I see any one coming over the
_landes_."
This was said aloud, and Richmond answered--
"No, no. We will go with thee, lad."
"Stay, stay; my son shall go up the steeple," cried the landlord; "he
is quick enough in all conscience, and his eyes are good. You stay and
feed, Pierre."
Such was then the arrangement. The son of the landlord was sent up to
the top of the church to watch, while the whole party of travellers
halted at the little inn, to rest, feed their horses, and partake of
what coarse refreshment the place afforded. The horse of the Marquis
of Dorset, however, would not feed; but, by the mediation of Pierre la
Brousse, that nobleman procured another very fair animal to carry him
on, and the furniture of that which he had been riding was transferred
to the back of the fresh steed. The other four horses took their
provender willingly enough; and, having seen this most necessary point
settled, Richmond and his companions entered the house, and soon had
some eggs, meat, and wine set before them. They had time to make a
tolerable meal, but no more; for, just as they had finished, the
landlord's son came running in to say, that he saw a party of horsemen
coming over the _landes_, at the distance of about three miles.
"How many are they?" demanded Richmond, in a calm tone.
"A good number, sir," replied the young man, "but I did not stay to
count them."
"How can they have tracked us?" cried the boy.
"They had something running before them which looked like a dog," said
the landlord's son. "It was too far to see exactly what it was; but it
might be a blood-hound."
"My dog for an hundred angels!" said Richmond, in a low tone; "we must
to horse at once. Were they coming quick?"
"No, slow enough," answered the young man, following the strangers to
the courtyard.
"Thank Heaven, their horses must be as tired as ours," said Dorset;
and, paying the reckoning, the party of fugitives mounted in haste to
depart.
"There is a gold crown for thee, young man," said Richmond to the
landlord's son, before they set out; "and if thou and thy father can
contrive to delay those who come after for one hour, I promise, on the
word of an English nobleman, you shall have ten such sent to you by
some means. If I reach Angers in safety, you may come and claim the
reward. Now, on gentlemen, as fast as whip and spur will carry us."
On they went then; and, for fully twenty miles more, their horses bore
them up well; but evident symptoms of failing strength began to
manifest themselves about nine o'clock, and before ten it became
clearly necessary to seek some fresh beasts. The houses were now,
however, beginning to appear more frequently; the boy Pierre knew
every place where a horse was likely to be obtained; and the four
which were wanted were at last procured, some being found at one
place, and some at another. It was none too soon, however; for while
yet at the distance of some three miles from Angers, a large
stag-hound with a silver collar bounded up to the side of the earl of
Richmond, and almost sprang upon his horse.
"Ah, my poor Taker," said Richmond. "Thou hast unwittingly betrayed
me, I fear.--Look back, look back," he added to his followers; "they
must be near at hand now."
Nothing was to be seen, however; for the dog had outrun the pursuers;
and, for a mile farther, they did not come in sight. Then, however,
they were seen coming over a hill not very far off; and, from that
spot, the journey became in fact a race. Those who followed had
evidently hired fresh horses likewise; or rather, armed with the
authority at the duke of Britanny, they had taken them wherever they
found them; and they gained perceptibly upon the fugitives. Now they
were lost sight of in a hollow, as the road rose up and down; now they
came in sight again, and each time nearer than before. At length,
however, a glimpse of the winding Mayenne was obtained, and then
towers and steeples were seen over the trees.
"Angers, Angers!" cried the boy, with renewed hope.
On they dashed; and, when they reached the gates of the city, the
horsemen of the duke of Britanny were not three hundred yards behind
them.
There, however, both parties reined in their horses; and Richmond
presented his letters of safe conduct to the guard at the gates. The
pursuers did not venture to follow any farther, for they were already
within the pale of France; and, wearied in frame, but relieved in
mind, the earl rode on into the town.
As, now in security, Richmond cast off his clothes at the inn, and
prepared to take some repose, his mind rested upon the events of the
eight and forty hours just past; and his last thought, ere his eyes
closed in sleep, was--"It is strange that I should owe my escape from
imprisonment--ay, and from death, to a woodman in a distant part of
England." He might have said, "and that England should owe him a
king;" but all the coming time was dim to the eyes of the earl; and he
only added--"I vow to the blessed Virgin Mary, if ever I should sit
upon the throne of England, as some men think likely, I will find out
that man and reward him."