The Unknown Cavalier
My father had already accepted the Admiral's kind offer, so, after a few days of idleness, I began my new duties, meeting with a genial reception from my future comrades, several of whom were but a little older than myself.
Every day now some fresh note of alarm sounded. The king withdrew the privileges he had granted to those of the Religion, and from several quarters we learned that civil war in all but the name had broken out afresh. It was said, too, that the king had given command of the royal army to his brother, the Duke of Anjou, with orders to exterminate us, root and branch.
"Anjou!" laughed my comrade, "why, he is only a boy! He should be doing his lessons. Has the king provided him with a nurse?"
"Yes," I replied, "he will find Marshal Tavannes a very capable nurse."
"Oh, that is the way of it, eh? Faith, 'tis a good plan, for, see you, Edmond, if there be any glory 'twill go to Anjou, while Tavannes can take the discredit. A capital arrangement—that is, from Monseigneur's point of view!"
Meanwhile numbers of Huguenot gentlemen with their retainers were arriving at Rochelle, and our leaders were soon able to muster a respectable little army.
"Anjou must make haste if he wishes to cover himself with glory," said Felix one morning. "The Queen of Navarre will be here to-morrow, bringing four thousand Bearnese with her. They are sturdy fellows and splendid fighters."
"There is another item of news," I said. "The English queen is sending money and guns!"
"Ah," responded my comrade, "the English are stupid! Why don't they join us boldly? We are fighting for the same object, and against the same enemy. For, mark you, Edmond, our real foes are Spain and the Pope, which these English will find out one of these days! If we get beaten, it will be their turn next."
We gave the brave Queen of Navarre and her troops a right royal reception, but to me the most interesting figure in the procession was her son, Henry, on whom in the years to come the hopes of so many Frenchmen were centred. He was quite a boy, only fifteen years old, but he had a strong and capable face, full of fire and energy. His hair had a reddish tinge, his skin was brown but clear, and he had well-shaped regular features. His eyes had a sweet expression, and when he smiled his whole face lit up with animation. He sat his horse with extreme grace, and responded to the plaudits of the crowd with courtly bows.
"A gallant lad!" exclaimed Felix delightedly. "He has the makings of a soldier, and in a year or two will be a tower of strength to us."
The talk now among the younger men was of moving out from Rochelle, scattering the Royalists, marching on Paris, and dictating peace in the palace. It was astonishing how easy these things appeared to be, as we sat and gossiped idly in the Admiral's ante-chamber! Fortunately, however, our leaders, being in possession of cooler heads and clearer brains, decided otherwise, and when winter came, making a campaign impossible, we were still inside the walls.
During the autumn we were joined by a troop of English gentlemen, about a hundred strong, under the leadership of one named Henry Champernoun. They were mostly young, of good birth and family, very gallant fellows, and as eager to fight as the most headstrong of us.
With one of them—Roger Braund, a lad about the same age as Felix—we soon became very friendly. He was fair and handsome, with sparkling blue eyes and shapely features. He was tall and well made, a skilful horseman, and an astonishing master of fence. Few of us could equal him with the sword, but he was modest and unassuming, and had a genial manner, very captivating.
He was a frequent visitor at my aunt's house, where he speedily became as great a favourite as Felix. Indeed, I sometimes thought that Jeanne regarded him with even more favour. She spent much time in his company, listening to his accounts of the English Court and of his own home, which was situated in a district called Devonshire. I think Felix was not too well pleased with this intimacy, but whatever sorrow it caused him he kept locked up in his own breast.
One evening, they started together to the house, expecting me to follow as soon as I was relieved of my duty. It was, I remember, about a half after six, when I left the hotel. The streets as usual were thronged with citizens and soldiers, who in some places almost blocked the road. In front of me was a horseman, to all appearance but newly arrived. He was proceeding at a foot pace, and evidently looking for suitable accommodation.
"A fine beast!" I thought, glancing at the animal, and then—"Surely I have seen that horse before!"
The knowledge did not come to me at once, but by degrees I remembered the early morning ride through the sleeping village of Le Blanc, and the richly-dressed cavalier with whom we had travelled some distance. I quickened my steps, and scanned the rider closely. I could not see his face well, but there could be no mistaking the alert, soldierly figure, and the short, brown curls escaping over the forehead.
"Faith, my friend," I said to myself, "the tables are turned now! One word from me, and you would be torn in pieces; but you must be a brave rascal to venture alone into Rochelle! If Anjou has many spies as fearless as you, he must be well served."
I walked close behind him, wondering what was best to be done. He was certainly a spy, who had entered the city for the purpose of searching out our strength and weakness. Perhaps it would be best to call a patrol, and have him arrested on the spot. I was still considering this, when he turned up a side street and dismounted before the door of an inn. An ostler led his horse to the stables, and he entered the house.
Now the fellow was so completely in my power that I had the mind to watch him a little further. Several persons were in the room, but he had taken his place at an unoccupied table in the corner, and called for the host.
"Some food and a little wine," he said, "but serve me quickly; I have important business on hand."
"Monsieur has travelled?" said the landlord, with a glance at his boots.
"Yes," he answered, "and one feels safer inside Rochelle than beyond its walls, let me tell you!"
"What is Anjou doing now, monsieur?" asked a man at one of the other tables.
"Killing," said the stranger briefly. "Rochelle will soon be able to hold all those left of the Religion."
"I vow," exclaimed an iron-featured trooper, "it makes one wonder our leaders should keep us cooped up here."
"You had better offer your opinion to the Admiral, or to Condé," said the stranger with a laugh, and he turned his attention to the food that had been set before him.
He ate and drank quickly, taking no further part in the conversation, but apparently as much at ease as if sitting at Anjou's table.
"You will require a room, monsieur?" said the host presently.
"I will pay for one, though I may not use it."
"And your horse, monsieur?"
"Will remain in the stables."
He had nearly finished his meal now, and, acting on a sudden impulse, I crossed the room and sat down opposite him. He looked up at me in a casual way, and the next instant understood he was discovered. But the man had nerves of iron; not a muscle of his face moved; only by the sudden light in his eyes did I know that he recognized me.
"The game is to me, monsieur," I said simply.
"Yes," he agreed, "the game is yours, but do not claim the stakes until I have spoken with you."
"The game is altogether finished, monsieur, and you have lost; you cannot throw again."
"A fig for the game!" he said; "you have but to raise your voice, and these bloodhounds will bury their fangs in my heart. I know that, and do not complain. I ask only a few hours' freedom."
"Surely, monsieur, in the circumstance, that is a strange request!"
"A riddle is always strange when one does not possess the key. For instance, you believe I have entered Rochelle as a spy."
"Exactly."
"And yet you are mistaken. I suppose you will laugh at my story, but I must tell it you. You know me only as an opponent."
"A clever and a daring one."
"And yet you foiled me! But that is not to the point. My name is Renaud L'Estang. My father was a gentleman, poor and without influence; I had good blood in my veins but no money in my purse. My only chance of wealth lay in my sword. I sold it to the highest bidder. In short, monsieur, I am an adventurer, no better and no worse than thousands of others."
"And in the pay of the League!"
"At present," he corrected, with a courteous inclination of the head, "in the service of the Duke of Anjou."
"Why did you attack me at Nevers?"
"To obtain possession of the letter of whose contents we were in ignorance."
"And you denounced my father to the Duke!"
"There you wrong me. I endeavoured to capture the letter; I failed, and my part in the affair was over; but again I am wandering from the point, which is to explain my presence in Rochelle. Monsieur, has it ever occurred to you that a man who earns his livelihood by his sword may have a heart the same as more innocent persons?"
"No one is without some virtue," I said.
"There is one person in the world," he continued, in low earnest tones, almost as if communing with himself, "who has all my love and affection. For her I would willingly die, or suffer the worst tortures a fiend could invent. Monsieur, there is but one person on earth who loves me and whom I love; and she is in Rochelle, lying at the point of death."
"Your wife?" I said questioningly.
"My mother!" he replied. "In her eyes, monsieur, I possess all the virtues. It is strange, is it not?" and he laughed a trifle bitterly.
"And you risked your life to comfort her before she died?"
"Bah!" he exclaimed impatiently, "what is a trifle like that? Monsieur, I never yet begged a favour, but I beg one now. Not for myself, but for her. You are young, and have a mother of your own! I shall not plead to you vainly. I tried to kill you, but you will not take your revenge on her. And I am altogether in your power."
"Yes," I said slowly, "that is true."
"You can send for a guard, but without explaining your object. They can surround the house, while I close my mother's eyes, and afterwards I am at your service. The gallows, the block, or the wheel, as your leaders direct; you will not lose much."
"No, I shall not lose much," I repeated.
Now, strangely perhaps, I felt not the slightest doubt of the man's story. His good faith was apparent in every tone and every gesture. Whatever his vices, he loved his mother with his whole heart. And he was entirely in my power! Even if he got away from me in the streets he could not leave Rochelle! I thought of my own mother, and hesitated no longer. I could not keep these two apart.
"Monsieur," I said, "for good or ill I intend to trust you. We will go together to your home, and—and afterwards you will return with me to the Hôtel Coligny. If you abuse my confidence, I will leave your punishment in the hands of God, who judges Huguenot and Catholic alike. Come, let us hasten."
He made no violent protestations, but murmured brokenly: "May the blessing of a dying woman reward you!"
We passed out of the inn together, and walked briskly through the streets, until we reached a house not far from the harbour. The door was opened by a middle-aged woman who gazed at my companion in astonishment.
"Hush!" he said softly, "am I in time?"
"For the end," she answered, "only for that. Madame has already received the last rites."
The woman showed us into an empty room, where my companion laid aside his weapons.
"You do not repent of your generosity?" he asked.
"I have trusted you fully," I replied, and his face lit up with a gratified smile as he left the room, stepping noiselessly into the corridor.
The servant brought a light, and some refreshments, but they stood before me untasted. I was busy with my thoughts. The house was very still; not a sound broke the silence, not the murmur of a voice, nor the fall of a footstep. I might have been in a house of the dead.
Suddenly the door was pushed open noiselessly, and the adventurer stood before me beckoning. I rose from my seat and followed him without a word into another apartment. In the bed in the alcove a woman lay dying. She must have been beautiful in her youth, and traces of beauty still lingered on her face. She stretched out her hands and drew my head down to hers.
"Renaud tells me you have done him a great service," she said feebly. "It is through you that he was able to come to me. A dying woman blesses you, monsieur, and surely the saints will reward you. A goodly youth! A goodly youth! May God hold you in His holy keeping! Treasure him, Renaud, my son, even to the giving of your life for his!"
Her eyes closed, she sank back exhausted, and I stole from the room. How my heart ached that night! "Treasure him, Renaud!" Poor soul! How merciful that she should die ignorant of the wretched truth! "Even to the giving of your life for his!" And his life was in my hands already! Oh, the pity, the horror of it! She called on God to bless me, and I was about to lead her only son straight from her death-bed to the executioner!
For I could not disguise from myself the fact that this man would die the death of a spy. Ambroise Devine was in Rochelle, and he would show no mercy. And, terrible as it might seem, there were those in the city who would scout the idea that Renaud L'Estang had risked his life solely to visit his dying mother. "He is a spy," they would declare hotly; "let him die a spy's death!"
"It is not my fault," I said to myself angrily; "he has lost; he must pay forfeit!"
"A dying woman blesses you, and surely the saints will reward you!" The room was filled with the words; they buzzed in my ears, and beat into my brain continually; I could not rid myself of them. "A dying woman!" Ay, perhaps a dead woman by now, and her son following swiftly as the night the day! I could have cried aloud in my agony of mind.