The scrivener made no answer but laid a bundle on the ground, which he spread out with the greatest care. In the light of the moon I saw him quietly smiling to himself.
“I’ve brought enough for a week,” he said, “cheese and bread and smoked meat. While they are running mad in search of us, we can live like kings.”
With all my fears, I was as hungry as a bear. The two of us sat down upon the hard ground with a flat stone for a table. We ate in silence, for each of us was busy with his own thoughts. Now and then I caught the scrivener glancing up at me through his brows with that quaint smile on his face, as though he was secretly amused.
“I can go with you until we come into the country of the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he said suddenly. “After that it will be for you to shift for yourself.”
“Scrivener,” said I, “who is this Abbot of Chalonnes?”
“He’s a strong man, Henri,” came the answer. “A man to be feared.”
“But what is his importance?” I demanded. “Has he an army? Does he rule a part of France? Or is he only a churchman?”
“No one knows—exactly,” replied the scrivener cautiously. “He’s as mysterious as a fox. He has power enough to move a mountain. He can break the most arrogant prince. He can tear his castle down about his ears. But his ways are dark and secret. He is seldom seen. He has no followers as far as I can learn, but somehow men are afraid to go against his will.”
“But his land? Where does he live?”
“That’s uncertain, too,” he explained. “——mostly in the valley of the Loire beyond the fortress of Angers.”