A Traitor to the King
It was on the evening of the first day in August, 1568, that I rode into the village of Le Blanc. All day long a pitiless sun had been beating down on the arid earth, with not one freshening breeze to temper the intense heat, and even now not a breath of air stirred so much as a solitary leaf on the trees.
My poor beast dragged wearily along, and his fatigue was scarcely greater than my own.
"Good old fellow!" I said, stroking his neck affectionately, "a few hundred yards more and we shall be at home. Food and water, clean straw, and a shady place for you. Ha, ha, old fellow, that makes you prick up your ears!"
We trailed along the sun-baked street; the door of every house was wide open; the villagers, men, women, and children sprawled listlessly in the coolest places, hardly raising their eyes at the beat of my horse's hoofs.
But those who did glance up gazed at me curiously, and once or twice I heard a muttered, "'Tis Monsieur Edmond!" as if I were the last person they expected to see in my own home. Their strange glances, half surprise, half pity, made me uncomfortable, and set me wondering whether any accident had happened.
However, I proceeded slowly as far as the inn, outside which half a dozen men had congregated, while old Pierre himself stood in the doorway. They greeted me in wonder, and again I heard some one say, "'Tis Monsieur Edmond!"
"Well, my friends," I exclaimed, with perhaps a suggestion of annoyance in my voice, "is there any reason why it should not be Monsieur Edmond? Did you think me dead, or has the heat affected your brains? Speak up, some of you!"
"Is monsieur going to the castle?" asked Pierre.
"Of course I am!" I answered half angrily.
"Perhaps monsieur will dismount and enter the inn. Things have happened since monsieur went away."
A great fear seized me, but, keeping my features under control, I slipped from the saddle, and, bidding the ostler take charge of the animal, followed Pierre into the one private room the inn contained.
"Now, Pierre," I exclaimed, "tell me the story quickly, in as few words as possible."
"First then, monsieur," began the old man in his quavering voice, "it is useless going to the castle, as it is shut up."
"The castle shut up!" I cried in astonishment. "Well, go on with the story; it promises plenty of interest."
"Shortly after your departure, monsieur, many rumours spread abroad. Some said one thing, some mother; but no one knew the truth. Then, one night, your father sent for me to the castle. He ordered me to watch for your return, and to tell you he had gone to Rochelle. Not another word, monsieur, except that you were to join him, and to keep out of the way of the king's troops."
"This is strange news!" I said.
"Your father must have gone away that night, monsieur, for next day the castle was deserted. And it was well he did not stay longer," the old man concluded, with a wise shake of the head.
"Why?" I asked anxiously.
"The next night, monsieur, we were roused from sleep by the tramping of soldiers. I ran to the window and looked out. There were more than two hundred of them marching through the village. On arriving at the castle, they found they were too late. Their leader was very angry; he raved like a madman."
"Did you go to listen to him?"
"No, monsieur, he slept here at the inn. The next day he had all the villagers drawn up outside, and made them a grand speech. Had it not been for his soldiers, I think he would not have left the village alive."
"Then he made the good folk angry?"
"Monsieur, it was terrible. He said the Sieur Le Blanc was a traitor to the king, that he had harboured one of the king's enemies, and that his life was forfeit to the law. Any man was to shoot him like a dog. He said all this, monsieur, and more, much more. Then he called in the leading men one by one, and questioned them closely, but they knew nothing."
"He should have asked you, Pierre."
"He did, monsieur, but he said I was a stupid dolt, with no more sense than one of my own casks!" and the old man broke into a hearty laugh.
"You had a guest the night I went away; he left early in the morning. Who was he?"
"I do not know, monsieur. He was a stranger who wished to learn all he could about the chief folk in the district; but he was an enemy to the Cause, and he did not carry away much information. Old Pierre was too dense to understand his questions," and the old man chuckled again.
"Well," I said after a pause, "since it is useless going to the castle, I must put up here for the night. I am tired and hungry. Get me some supper and a bed; meanwhile I must attend to my horse; the poor beast has carried me far."
Pierre's information was very disquieting, but, as my father had evidently received timely warning, I trusted he had effected his escape, and that by this time he was safely sheltered behind the strong walls of La Rochelle.
When Pierre brought in the supper I asked after Jacques, and, hearing he had not returned, told the landlord to inform him of what had happened. Whether he would endeavour to get into Rochelle or not I left to himself.
I ate my supper slowly, my mind fully occupied with this extraordinary occurrence. Why had my father thus suddenly been marked down for vengeance? He was a noted Huguenot, 'twas true, but he was not a leader such as Condé or the Admiral. He had sheltered the wounded messenger, and had allowed me to carry the warning to Tanlay.
This, of course, was sufficient to incur the Queen-Mother's displeasure; but how had the knowledge reached her? Who was there at Le Blanc able and willing to betray our secrets? Not a soul, unless——! Ah, the name leaped of itself into my mind. Who was the maker of mischief but Etienne Cordel?
I put together all that I had heard of this man whom Jacques detested so thoroughly. He was a lawyer, who, by some means, had amassed wealth and lands. Numerous stories, all evil, were related of him, and it was rumoured that he had long served as a useful tool to persons in high places. At least he had prospered exceedingly in some mysterious manner, and it was said he had been promised a patent of nobility. I called for Pierre, and asked if he had heard anything fresh lately of this upstart lawyer.
"No, monsieur," he answered, "Cordel had gone away before the soldiers came, and he has not yet returned. He went hurriedly, after a visit from the cavalier who slept here. Monsieur does not think——"
"For the present I think nothing, Pierre. I am tired and will go to bed. Get me an early breakfast, so that I can proceed on my journey in the cool of the morning."
Of what use were my suspicions, even if I proved them to be correct? The mischief was done, and I could not undo it. My father was a fugitive from his home, to which he dared not return, and it only remained for me to join him.
I went to bed, and, in spite of my anxiety, was soon asleep, for the long journey from Noyers had been both tedious and fatiguing. Pierre called me early, and while the village still slumbered I set forth.
"Monsieur goes to Rochelle?" asked the old man, as I vaulted lightly into the saddle.
"Yes, at present I intend going to Rochelle."
"It is said here that the war has begun again."
"If it has not, it soon will, Pierre, and when it is finished, the Sieur Le Blanc will once more be master of his castle."
"Heaven grant it, monsieur," said he earnestly, as I rode off.
The state of the country west of Le Blanc was even more deplorable than what I had seen during my journey to Tanlay. The fields were bare both of corn and of cattle; the villagers were starving; the people of the towns went about in fear and trembling; the king's troops robbed as they pleased without restraint.
At Poictiers I found the citizens in a state of dangerous excitement. Armed bands, some Huguenots, some Catholics, patrolled the streets, singing and shouting, and uttering threats of vengeance. Fearful of being mixed up in these disturbances, I alighted before the door of the first decent inn, gave my horse to the ostler, and entered.
"Your streets are a trifle dangerous for a peaceful traveller," I remarked to the landlord, who showed me to a room.
"What would you, monsieur?" he asked, with a shrug of the shoulders; "the times are evil. These miserable heretics disturb the whole country with their senseless brawls. But the mischief will be stamped out before long."
"How?" I said. "Has not the king granted them the privilege of worshipping in their own way?"
"Ah, monsieur, that was meant but for a time. The Queen-Mother will make a clean sweep of their rights as soon as she has power enough. And it is said," here he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper, "that a royal army is already marching from Paris. But monsieur is hungry?"
"Hungry and thirsty both," I replied. "What is that?" for the sounds of angry voices came from the outside.
"It is nothing, monsieur; some one has drawn a knife, perhaps, and there is a little fighting, but that is all. One does not regard these things," and he hurried off to prepare my meal.
After leaving Poictiers, I avoided the towns as much as possible, though travelling in the country districts was nearly as hazardous. The peasants having no work, and being without food, had formed themselves into robber bands, and more than once I owed my safety to the fleetness of my horse.
However, on the evening of the second day, I reached Rochelle, just as the gates were being closed. The streets were filled with citizens and Huguenot soldiers, and it was apparent that the illustrious fugitives had arrived safely at their stronghold.
Being a stranger to the city I rode slowly along the street, noting the houses, and scanning the people closely, on the chance of discovering a familiar face. In all my solitary wanderings I had not felt as lonely as I did now, amidst a seething crowd of my fellow-creatures.
The first thing, of course, was to find my father, but on coming to the Hôtel Coligny, I resolved to dismount and to seek out Felix Bellièvre. Fortunately, he was within, and I received a hearty welcome, which caused me to feel once more as if I belonged to the world of human beings.
"Faith, Edmond," he cried cheerily, "the grass has not grown under your feet! I did not expect you until to-morrow, at the earliest."
"One does not care to linger around an empty nest," I replied moodily.
"Empty only for a short time, I hope. Do not look so astonished. I have seen your father. More than that, I have been presented to your sister. Already I am a friend of the family! I will conduct you to the house, if you wish. Come, I have plenty of leisure, and you will serve as an excellent excuse for my visit."
"How did you happen to become acquainted with my father?" I asked, as we walked along.
"In the simplest way imaginable, my dear Edmond. He called to pay his respects to the Admiral; being on duty at the time, I heard his name, and made myself known as your friend. He was eager to hear news of you, and carried me off. I met your sister, and you will not be surprised that within twenty-four hours I was repeating my visit. You see there were so many things to tell her about yourself," and he laughed roguishly.
"Are they depressed by what has happened?"
"Not in the least; they regard it as a trial of their faith; but here we are at the house. I fear you will not see your estimable aunt; she is an invalid, and keeps strictly to her own rooms. Ah, here is one of the servants; let him attend to your animal, and I will announce you. Your sister will fall on your neck and embrace you. Do you think it possible for us to change parts for a few minutes?"
He was still laughing and talking in his madcap way when a door opened, and my father came towards us.
"Edmond!" he cried, on seeing me, "now this is indeed bright sunshine gleaming through the dark clouds. Monsieur Bellièvre, you are doubly welcome, for your own sake and for what you bring with you!"
The memory of the pleasant evening that followed I treasured for many years. I sat beside my mother, my hand clasped in hers, telling her the story of my adventures. Jeanne was full of high spirits, while Felix was simply overflowing with wit and good-humoured drollery.
The only drawback to our enjoyment was the absence of the trusted Jacques, but even that was slight, as he was not seriously wounded, and from the household of the noble Count St. Cyr he was certain to receive every attention.
Nothing was said that evening about the visit of the troops to Le Blanc, but the next morning I had a long talk with my father on the subject. I told him what I had learned from old Pierre, and also my suspicions concerning Etienne Cordel.
"The advocate is a scheming rogue," he said, "who bears me no goodwill because I have laughed at his pretensions to be considered our equal. He is in the pay of Monseigneur, and he has acted as a spy on those of the Religion; but, unless he heard of the affair of the letter, he could do me no harm."
"He must have heard of it from the stranger with whom we travelled," I declared. "Jacques distrusted him from the first, and believed he was one of those who attacked Devine. Did he recover?"
"Yes; he is in Rochelle, fretting and fuming at having been prevented from fulfilling his mission. But to return to our own affairs. Have you considered what this proclamation means?"
"That your life is in danger."
"A bagatelle, Edmond. It has been in danger these many years. There is something far more serious. As a traitor to the king, my estates are forfeit, and you will grow up to see another man master of the land which by right is yours. It is a heavy price for you to pay, my boy."
Now I hold it folly to pretend that this caused me no grief, but I was young and enthusiastic, and sensible enough to know that any sign of sorrow would add to my father's unhappiness. So I looked straight into his eyes and said brightly, "Others have paid a heavy price for their faith without murmuring; I am strong enough to do the same."
He held me in his arms and kissed my cheeks, saying: "Now God bless and reward you for those brave words, my son," and never before in all my life had I seen him so deeply moved.