L'Estang Tells His Story
Spring had ripened into summer, and I was still at Le Blanc, not having heard from my patron, and being unwilling to depart without his orders. Cordel had gone to Paris, and, for the time at least, had abandoned his schemes.
One day, about the third week in June, I had just returned from a morning gallop when Jacques met me in the courtyard with the news that Ambroise Devine had brought me a packet from Monsieur Bellièvre.
I had almost forgotten the man, never having seen him since the morning when I started on the memorable journey to Tanlay.
"It is along while since we met," I said, greeting him. "My father told me you recovered from your wounds, and I expected to find you in Rochelle."
"Rochelle forms my headquarters, so to speak, monsieur, but I am in the hands of the chiefs. My last journey was to Flanders, whence I am now returning. Hearing that I was on my way to Rochelle, Monsieur Bellièvre entrusted me with this packet for you."
"You must stay and have a gossip with me," said I, having thanked him; "I hear little news from the outside world."
"You honour me, monsieur; but it is necessary for me to push on with all speed; I am carrying important despatches."
"But you need refreshment!"
"Jacques has seen to that, monsieur, and also to my horse."
"We may meet again," I said, as he took his leave.
"It is very likely. There will be a gathering of our gentlemen in Paris before long; but doubtless Monsieur Bellièvre has told you all the news."
When he had gone I sat down eagerly to read my comrade's letter. There was a smaller packet enclosed, but that I set aside. Felix wrote at some length, and his first item of news was very startling.
"It will cause you both grief and astonishment," he wrote, "to learn of the death of our good Queen Joan. She died on June 9, and some talk has passed of her having been poisoned. There is, however, a great deal of sickness here, and from what Jeanne tells me, I think the poor queen took fever."
"This may cause events to move more rapidly," I thought. "Now that Henry has become King of Navarre, he is a person of even greater importance. Charles will need to reckon with him."
"Our patron," Felix continued, "remains in close attendance on the king, who treats him with the utmost kindness, and even respect. The Guises are in despair, Monseigneur is furious, and even the Queen-Mother has to swallow her pride. This is strange, is it not?"
"Strange!" I exclaimed aloud, "it is a miracle! What else does this wonderful budget contain?"
"Our patron has a grand scheme in his head. He is working hard to unite the Huguenots and the Moderate Catholics into a national party, and to declare war against Spain. The king has nearly consented, and unless the Queen-Mother regains her power war may break out at any moment."
"Better to fight the Spaniards than to cut each other's throats," I muttered.
"I have kept my best news until the last," the letter continued. "Our patron believes the coming war will afford you the chance needed. He will nominate you to a commission, and present you to the king at the same time. For this purpose you must be here, and I am to instruct you to repair at once to the Hôtel Coligny, at Paris. Is not this glorious news?"
I had scarcely patience to finish the letter, feeling more inclined to jump up and dance around the room; and yet the ending was full of strange interest.
"A week ago, a man, closely muffled, who refused to give his name, sought me out late at night. He wished, he said, to communicate with you, but for a special reason preferred to send in an indirect way. He finished by asking me to enclose a note the first time I was sending any correspondence to Le Blanc. It sounded very mysterious, but thinking a letter could not work much mischief I consented."
"That is odd," I thought, looking at the smaller packet, which bore no address, and opening it I read in Renaud L'Estang's handwriting—
"Monsieur, I fear something has gone wrong. Did you receive my letter? My messenger has not returned, and I can hear no word of him. I am too busily engaged to leave Monseigneur, and I do not care to send to you openly. Cordel either suspects or knows that I am your friend.
D'ANGELY."
Calling Jacques, I handed the note to him, and asked his opinion.
"It does not help us a bit," he declared; "it explains nothing. If L'Estang is a false friend, as I believe, he is merely trying by this note to throw dust into your eyes. If, on the other hand, he was not a party to the plot, the mystery remains the same."
"I fear you are right, Jacques. However, let us not trouble our heads with the riddle; it will solve itself one of these days. I have other news; can you guess what it is?"
"By your face, monsieur, it should be something pleasant: the king has signed those tiresome papers!"
"Not exactly right," I answered laughing, "but I have hope of that happening in time. We are going to Paris, Jacques. There is likely to be war with Spain, and I am to receive the king's commission. It will be better than fighting against those of our own race and blood; and if we come through the campaign alive, Monsieur Cordel may even cast his eyes on some other person's estates."
"When do we start?" asked Jacques eagerly.
"I have a few arrangements to make. Let us say the day after to-morrow."
"Very good, monsieur, but it is a long time to wait."
The lawyer was still absent from his house, but in case any of his spies should carry information, Jacques let it be known the next morning that in a few days we were going to La Rochelle; nor did I give my own servants any different information.
It was a glorious summer morning when we set forth: the sun shone brightly in a blue sky thinly flaked with snowy clouds; the birds carolled joyously; the green leaves, made brilliant by the sunlight, danced in the gentle breeze; a fresh, sweet smell rose from the fragrant earth.
Many a long day had passed since my heart had felt so light, and as we cantered into the highroad I hummed a gay refrain. I felt as if this was bound to prove the most successful of our ventures.
I had real hope as a foundation on which to rear my airy castle. The war of Religion was over and done with; Huguenot and Catholic would stand shoulder to shoulder against the common foe; Monseigneur, the Guises, and all those who were striving for their own interests to embroil the country in civil strife would have to stand aside; France would at length be united, and therefore strong.
My own private fortunes also wore a rosy tint that morning. Even if the king did not restore my estates at the outset, he would certainly not refuse to do so after I had fought his battles, and perhaps helped to gain his victories! No, I had not a single fear when I turned to take a last lingering view of the castle of Le Blanc.
As a matter of precaution we rode a few miles in the direction of La Rochelle, but neither Jacques nor I expected that any further attempt would be made upon us in that part of the country. Cordel was most probably in Paris, and could have no knowledge of our sudden departure from Le Blanc. In fact we reached Paris without any mishap, save the casting of a horse's shoe, and the loss of a few hours one night when we went astray in the darkness.
We entered Paris a little before the gate was closed for the night. It was still very light, and the streets were filled with people, very few of whom, however, took much notice of us. The capital was utterly strange to me, and I knew nothing of Coligny's residence, except that it was situated in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec. Overtaking an officer of the king's guards I asked to be directed to that street, and he very courteously undertook to conduct me part of the way.
"You are a stranger in Paris?" said he, looking critically at me and my servant.
"Yes, I have but now arrived from the south, to meet a friend who lives in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec."
"I should fancy," exclaimed the officer, with a humorous twinkle, "that your friend's residence is not far from the Hôtel Coligny! Have you borne arms, monsieur?"
"I fought at Arnay-le-Duc," I replied, feeling sure that my questioner had already set me down in his own mind as a Huguenot.
"I was there, too," he said, "but I'll wager we were not on the same side. However, those days are gone, and we may yet have a chance of fighting under the same flag!" to which I replied that nothing would give the members of our party more pleasure.
Having conducted me to the corner of the street and pointed out Coligny's house he took his leave, with a cheery hope that I should find my stay in town pleasant.
The Admiral was absent, but the house was occupied by several of his gentlemen, who gave me a hearty welcome. Felix was somewhere in the town on business, one said, not unconnected with my family, at which the others laughed.
He came in about an hour later, when I learned he had been spending the evening with the Countess Guichy, at whose house my sister was staying.
"The countess, my dear Edmond," said he, "is a relative of mine. She does not belong to the Religion, but she is a worthy soul, and when Queen Joan died and everything was in confusion, I persuaded your sister to go to her until she could consult you as to her future."
"That was like your kind heart, Felix; you have ever been a good friend to both of us. I had not thought how awkwardly Jeanne would be placed by the queen's death."
"There is no need to thank me," he replied, "I have done the countess a favour. Your sister has won her heart already, though to be sure there is no miracle in that. They called her the Queen of Hearts at Blois. I must take you to see her in the morning. Did Jacques come with you?"
"Yes, he is making himself at home with some of his old acquaintances; but where is the Admiral?"
"At Fontainebleau with the king. Everything is settled; Henry comes to Paris in a week or two, and there is to be a grand wedding. Our opponents are furious, but helpless. There is only one thing I dread."
"What is that?" I asked, rather taken aback by the sudden serious look on his face.
"There are ugly rumours about, Edmond. It is whispered that Guise has sworn to take our patron's life. Coligny has received a dozen warnings, but he is too fearless to notice them. He shrugs his shoulders and says 'It would be better to die a hundred times than to live in constant fear. I am tired of such alarms, and have lived long enough.' But he hasn't lived long enough, Edmond! Without him, the Cause would be ruined."
"No one will dare to do him an injury while the king stands by him," I said cheerfully. "If Charles is really his friend there is nothing to fear."
"I am not so sure of that. Unless the Admiral is at his elbow Charles is simply a tool in the hands of Monseigneur and the Queen-Mother."
"Even so it should be difficult for the assassin's knife to reach our patron while he has his body-guard around him!" at which Felix laughed, saying the Admiral frequently ventured abroad either alone, or with but one or two attendants.
The next morning we set off for the Countess Guichy's, where Jeanne received me with open arms. Since our last meeting she had become even prettier, and I scarcely wondered that the gay young courtiers had called her the "Queen of Hearts." She was very happy and cheerful, and full of praise for Felix, who had watched over her as tenderly as if she were his own sister.
The countess was a stately lady, with a kind face and twinkling eyes. It was easy to see she had become very attached to Jeanne, and she would listen to no arrangements that would remove my sister from her house.
"From all I can gather," she said, "you will be off to the wars soon, and pray what will Jeanne do then? Bury herself in that musty Rochelle? No, my dear, you shall remain with me until—ah, well, it isn't your brother who will part us!" at which poor Jeanne flushed painfully.
The countess insisted on our remaining to dinner, after which we escorted Jeanne into the city, Felix pointing out the sights and describing the buildings with the air of one who had lived in Paris all his life.
Our patron still being with the king we enjoyed a great deal of leisure, and for nearly a week spent most of our time with the countess and Jeanne, much to the satisfaction of Felix, who so contrived that I always had the honour of escorting his noble relative.
We were returning late one evening, walking quietly along the Rue de Bethisy, at the corner of which stood the Admiral's house, when a man, who had evidently been watching the approaches to the building, tapped me on the shoulder and whispered "Monsieur Le Blanc!"
He wore a large plumed hat which was drawn partly over his forehead, and he was, besides, closely muffled, but I had no difficulty in recognizing him as Renaud L'Estang. Telling Felix I would follow in a few minutes, I turned aside with the adventurer into the courtyard of a large house where we were not likely to be interrupted.
"I learned yesterday you were in Paris," he remarked, "and have been watching for you. Did your friend send you my note?"
"Yes, but it was difficult to answer. Your first messenger was killed; your second was a traitor. That is why I did not meet you at Poictiers."
"My second messenger!" he exclaimed in a tone of surprise. "Poictiers! Either you or I must be dreaming! I sent but one man, and he vanished. Why should you expect to meet me at Poictiers?"
"At your own invitation!" I replied.
"But, monsieur, this is a puzzle! I do not understand; it is beyond me."
"Perhaps," I remarked drily, "you have forgotten Casimir!"
At that he drew a long breath. "Casimir!" he exclaimed; "ah, that lets in a little light. Monsieur, will you tell me the story? We shall get at something surprising."
He listened attentively while I related what had happened, and then "Truly," he said, "this Cordel is a clever rogue, and Casimir an able tool. I have found him useful myself before now."
"He cheated you to some purpose in the end," I remarked.
"But he did not cheat me at all; I had nothing to do with him. Listen, and judge for yourself. I discovered that the lawyer had bargained with four men, one of whom was this very Casimir, to take your life. The murder was to be done in such a manner that no suspicion should attach to him, and the first thing was to get you away from Le Blanc."
"In that at least," said I laughing, "they succeeded."
"I wrote a letter warning you of this, and describing the four men, and despatched it by the hand of a trusty messenger."
"He was worthy of your trust," I said.
"The second letter asking you to meet me at Poictiers was not written by me."
"Then who was the writer?" I asked.
"It would be difficult to prove, but I should say it was Etienne Cordel. Several little matters convinced me he had heard of my flying visit to Le Blanc. That put him on his guard, and unfortunately my messenger was known to Casimir and his companions."
"Do you think they tracked him?"
"Waylaid him in the wood, abstracted the letter, and carried it to the lawyer. It was easy for him to imitate my writing, and the signature of D'Angely would disarm suspicion."
"Your explanation certainly seems reasonable," I remarked.
"And I believe it to be true. And now, take my advice and be very cautious. Men are cheap in Paris, and Cordel will stick at nothing. If I can help you against him, you may be sure I will."
I thanked him warmly, and proceeded to the hotel.
"Jacques will be glad to know that gratitude is not altogether dead in the world," I said to myself.