CIHM Microfiche Series (Monographs) fCIVIH Collection de microfiches (monographles) Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes techniques et bibliographiques ues The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming are checked below. Coloured covers / Couverture de couleur I i Covers damaged / Couverture endommag6e □ Covers restored and/or laminated / Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul^e Cover title missing / Le titre de couverture manque I I Coloured maps / Cartes g6ographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black) / Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations / Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material / Relie avec d'autres documents Only edition available / Seule edition disponlble Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin / La reliure serr§e peut Ciuser de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge interieure. Blank leaves added during restorations may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming / Use peut que certaines pages blanches ajout6es lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas et6 film6es. Additional comments / Commentaires supplementaires: D D D D L'Institut a microfilm6 le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exem- plaire qui sont peut-etre uniques du point de vue bibli- ographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la m6tho- de normale de filmage sont indiques ci-dessous. Coloured pages / Pages de couleur Pages damaged / Pages endommagees D / Pages restored and/or laminated / Pages restaurees et/ou pellicul6es Pages discoloured, stained or foxed / Pages d6color6es, tachetees ou piquees [ I Pages detached / Pages d6tachees I \/[ ohowthrough/ Transparence I I Quality of print vanes / D D Quality inegale de I'impression Includes supplementary material / Comprend du materiel supplementaire Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image / Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont et6 filmees a nouveau de fa?on a obtenir la meilleure image possible. Opposing pages with varying colouration or discolourations are filmed twice to ensure the best possible image / Les pages s'opposant ayant des colorations variables ou des decolorations sont filmees deux fois afin d'obtenir la meilleure image possible. D f This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below / Ce document est filme au taux de reduction indique ci-dessous. 10x 14x 18x 22x 26x 30x J ^ 12x 16x 20x 24x 28x 32x The copy filmod h«r« has b««n raproductd thanks to th« ocri«ro*>tV o^ = National Library of Canada L'axamplsirs filmi fut rsproduit grace i la O^nArositd da: Bibliotheque nationale du Canada Th« imagas appearing hara ara tha bast quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Las images suivantes ont iti raproduites avec la plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at da la netteti de I'exemplaire film^, at en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Original copies in printed paper covers ere filmed beginning v*ith the front cover and ending on the last psge with a printed or illustrated impree- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last pago with a printed or iliuatrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol — ♦- (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"). whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure ara filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les exemplaires originaux dont la couvarture «n papier est imprimte sont filmis en commen9ant par la premier plat et en terminant soit par la derniAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par la second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film^s en commencant par la premiere pege qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration at en terminant par la darniira page qui comporte une telle amprainta. Un das symbolas suivants apparaitra sur la derniire image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols •-«• signifie A SUIVRE ', le symboie V signifie "FIN". Les cartas, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent etre fiim6s A des taux de reduction diffArents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour etre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filme d partir de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche t droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'imagas nAcessaire. Les diagrammas suivants illustrant la mtthoda. 1 2 3 4 S 6 vncKOCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI end ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 l.i 1.25 i^ ||2.8 ^ m t m 2.5 2.2 ■ 80 lA U 1- 2.0 1.8 i.4 1.6 ,d ^^PPLIED IIVMGE Inc 1 653 East Main Street Rochester, New York U609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (715) 288- 5939 -Fox miiiuiiumgwiHaMu uiiuiuiunnuuuiuuiuiuiutuiuuuuiuiuumaiuiuiiuii '4 7^ •Ul^&^/^£L V A KING'S PAWN ij A KINO'S PAWN UY HAMILTON DRUMIdOND AUTHOR (IF 'a man OK IIIH AUK,' 'Foil TIIK UlitlCIDN,' ITf. ToUONTO W. J. GAGE & COMPANY, LIMITED 1900 All Rights reserved / z""^- 1 sj-*, ^t ^. Entered according to Act of ParlimiuiU, hi) Thk W. J. Gage Company (Limitkd), in the year one thousand nine hundred. « iTt {, {:' ,': L -u ^ - -f CONTENTS. CHAP. PAflK I. THE KING CROOKS H'S FINGER . . . 1 II. HOW BLAISE DE BERNAULD FOLLOWED THE KINO's BECK . ..... 15 III. THE PIN! JEA OF THE KING OF NAVARRE . . 30 IV. HOW THE KING REFUSPiD THE THRONE OF FRANCE . 43 V. THE CONDESCENSION OF THE DUG D'EPERNON . 57 VI. HOW marcel's HUNGER LOST ITS EDGE . . 67 VIL WE RIDE TO THE TRYST . . . .78 VIII. JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE . . . .88 IX. THE HAND OP TERESA SAUMAREZ . . . U)6 X. TWO MEN OF DISCRETION . . . .121 XI. THROUGH THE RIBS OF NAVARRE . . .132 XIL THE rat's HOLE . . . . .150 XIII. THE king's wager . , . . .163 XIV. AND WHAT CAME OF IT . . . . 177 XV= A DESCENT ON SP.AIN ..... 188 XVI. CHATEAU LIGNAC . . . . . 202 i ^-^\>i VI CONTENTS. XVII. MADEMOISELLE DE LIGNAC . XVIIL "to the VENGEANCE OF TERESA SAUMARBZ " XIX. THE DEBIT ACCOUNT OF TERESA SAUMAREZ XX. MISCHIEF ..... XXL BREAD AND SALT, SPANISH FASHION XXIL "THAT A MAN LAY DOWN HIS LIFE FOR HIS friend" ..... XXIII. BETWIXT HEAVEN AND EARTH XXIV. NORTHWARDS ! . . . . XXV. THE GREATEST THING UPON EARTH . 214 227 239 251 264 275 294 315 326 HIS 214 227 239 251 264 275 294 315 326 A KING'S PAWN. CHAPTEK I. THE KING CROOKS HIS FINGER. When, out of His divine imaginings, God gave man the world and all tlie things of charm and worth that are therein — things seen, things dreamed of, and things known by instinct — He gave nothing sweeter or more beautiful than the love of a good woman. That much is so clear that whosoever has tasted its truth will cry out upon it for a platitude. He who has not tasted it is, as it were, as yet out- side the pale of blessing. What is less certain is whether in the wife and mother the love to the husband or the child is the greater. Many a time it has seemed to me to be the one and many a time the other, so that I have concluded this : whichever calls for the greater sanrificp, draws for the time the greater love. 2 A king's pawn. Take a case — one of but little moment, I grant, but it illustrates the point Jeanne, my wife, had no love for that dusty ride to Orthez in the blinding July heat. To. bide with me in the cool quiet and comparative greenery of Bernauld would have been more to her taste. But Gaspard, our boy, had slipped his collar-bone in some school horse-play, and so needs must that his mother go and nurse him back to healtTi, and a stronger muscle for the next fool's bout. Have me with her she would not, lest mothers of a double handful of bustling boys laugh at her for making much ado of a small matter. Bide at home she would not, " For," said she, with such a shiver in her voice tliat I could but kiss her and answer nouglit, " I have but him and you in the whole world.'' Later I told her that for love of the son she had gone near to lose the life of the father, since but for being alone at Bernauld I would have sent some politic answer to the King's letter and kept my place and peace at home ; or else have brought her with me to Vic, where her woman's wit would have kept me clear of the folly I presently fell into with my eyes open. Yet this was scarcely true, for when a king wags a crooked finger and says " Come," there are few but will follow the beck ; nor could she, or any other — unless it had been Nostradamus himself — have foreseen what afterwards befell. This was how it came about. Two days had passed since my lady had ridden THE KING CROOKS HIS FINGER. out for Orthez, where (raspard kept his terms in tlie school of Beza's founding,', and I, being utterly moped for want of her, had betaken myself to my study. Not to books. To my great loss, that solace has never been mine. Time and again T have seen Coligny, crushed by defeat, and burdened with the sorrows of the whole Huguenot family in France, drop care at the side of an arm-cliair, and find rest and re- freshment in what to me was mere weariness of words. (,)ueen Jeanne, too, the mother of our Henry, could forget the bloody griefs of her beloved Navarre in a crabbed manuscript of monkish Latin, and draw from study the strength which others gain in sleep. These being the two I most reverence in the world, it is not likely I would have the folly to despise what gave them comfort, but the thing itself was beyond me. My study, then, in place of shelves and cases, had nails and hooks and racks. Nevertheless, that which hung upon the walls had tongues as long as sheep- skin, since they told tales of life and of death; of victory and defeat; of courage, of cunning, and of cowardice; of shame, glory, and self-sacrifice; the growth and decay of nations; the progress and de- velopment of craftsmanship ; the passions, the follies, and the failures of men ; the awful nearness of God, and the sharp swiftness of His judgments. All these they told. Could books do more ? I trow not Here was a trophy of lances and pikes; there of bows, crossbows, and arbalists, tough ash and touaher A king's pawn. yow ; or of mnsketoons and the newer-fangled arms that were so surely pressing the old out of ase. Between these were suits of armour, browned, ham- mered, and damascened ; from the heavy plate wherein a man sat h s horse like a pillar of iron and could not budge ten feet a- foot to save his life, to the delicate coats of chain-mail that fitted the body with the ease and comfort of a shirt, and yet were as safe as a wall of sand. But my books had other than metal leaves, for in one corner was a stand of tattered flags that had flown in more winds than those of PiUrope, while above the great mantel was set a star of sword - blades, some with handles and some without, but mostly notched and grim with use. With four such walls about him a man could pass his day and never be alone. But to every man his lure, and even as the Admiral had his favourite read- ing so had I mine, and my best beloved books were those glittering strips of steel above the mantel that even in the dark glowed like polished silver. Here it was that Marcel found me in the dusk of the second day after Jeanne's departure. 1 had lifted down a sword from the great star, and the old squire needed no second glance to recognise it. " The Florida blade ! " he cried as he saw me test afresh its swing and balance ; " my faith, Master Blaise, now that it's down you may keep it down. When the King sends post to Bernauld it's not to chop gossip, I'm thinking ! " " Ay," answered 1 bitterly enough, for what with THE KING CROOKS HIS FINGER, 5 Mornay mid I)e liosny, tlie Kin^' had forgotten mo of late. " IFhcu. the King sends ! But man and steel will have rusted beyond use before that day comes." " And perhaps better so," cried Marcel. " Better for the young master, better for madame, better for Bernauld. We are too old. Master lilaise, to hold our own with the lads in tlie front line, and struggle on in the rear we will not." "Too old?" and I rose and stretched myself: "let him who thinks he says truth in jest beware lest he find he has lied in earnest. Too old ? Wliy four- and- forty is a man's age and no more. As for thee " "Oh," said he sourly, "let me and my age be. Only, if you could cut my years in lialf I would be twice the man I am." Which was true enough, though I would have bitten my tongue across sooner than liave said so. Kings may liing aside an old servant like a tattered glove and forget the wounds he has saved them, but so could not Blaise de Bernauld. " Chut," said I, doubling on my tracks ; " better the old dog's cunning than the puppy's conceit. But what has all this to do with the Florida blade ? " " Did I not say so ? " and he smote a palm with a clenched fist. "I'm out -worn, brain and bone. There's a fellow without wlio swears he comes on the King's business, and yet he slipped my memory as if kings' messengers were as common as acorns." 6 A KINGS PAWN. " And his messaiio ? " "Ay, I asked hii tliat, and for answer he cocked his bonnet at me ana said was I, by chance, Messire Blaise de Bernauld, and when I told him ' No,' he said I was old enough to know that a king's message was not blabbed to the first country fool that asked it ! Fool and old, he called me," went on Marcel in high wratii, and entirely forgetful of his own self- depreciation. "He had best mend his maimers, or for all his Court training I may show him that I am less of one and other than he thinks." " No, no ; remember a king's messenger is sacred," cried I laughing, and with no thought that within forty-eight hours I was to forget my own saying. " Take me to the fellow, that I may keep the peace between you." Henry of Bourbon, Henry of Navarre, Henry of France — whichsoever you will, for he was all three by turn — being no laggard himself, whether in affairs of head or heart, had but scant tolerance for lajiaintr in obhers. Jacques Gobineau, therefore, who rode to Bernauld that July day, had made a discreet haste, wisely counting dust and a summer sun as but light things when weighed against the king's wrath. A lean-chopped, leather-skinned man-at-arms he was, and with all the shrewd impudence that is own child to a strong arm and an empty pocket. As I cut asunder the silken string that bound his packet he stood wiping the crust of dust from his thrice-sweated face with one hand, and swinainc THE KING CROOKS IIIK FINGER. his bonnet with tho other with as easy an air as if not alone Bernauld, but the whole county of Bigorre, was his for a possession. If he was hot without — and the red in his cheeks vouched that past doubt he seemed no less afire within, for he turned his face to the door and drew in slow draughts of air between his lips as a man does who, having nothing better wherewith to cool his thirst, cools it with wind. " From Pau ? " " From Pau to - day, monsieur : yesterday from Vic, and plague take the roads, whether yesterday or to-day," and he shook the fine dust from him in a cloud as a spaniel might water. "The King?" and I turned over the letter with its broad seal, and the looped chains of the Albrets impressed on the splash of wax, — "the King is at Vic ? " "The King?" Turning towards me the fellow laughed, not insolently but in good companionship as one might with an equal. "The King, by your leave, is a dog straining hard on a leash, and rest- lessly nosing this way and that for pure love of energy and delight of life. He ivas at Vic, mon- sieur, but where he is now the Lord knows. Some of these days the leash will break and then we shall see, and France shall see ; and there will be some slavering at the jaws, with blood in the slaver. An honest man may then come to his pay, perchance, by good loot if not by honest crowns. 'The Kins, where is he?' quoth he. A question easy to ask 8 A KINGS PAWN. but hard to answer." And again the fellow laughed as a wan does who has a quaint jest in his memory. " It is like this," he went on, slipping his bonnet over the left arm by the chin-strap and checking his points with the outstretched forefinger of his right hand. " You see me, monsieur, more rags and threadbare patches from hose to collar than bits of whole cloth. That's Navarre, and what Navarre is the King is, and when a man is out at elbows he cares little what company he keeps, and so fares here or there as his humour takes him. No offence, monsieur, if our Henry has bid you to Vic; I talk only as the Court talks. He, being King, v^e wink our eyes ; but were it one of us ! But that's talk, though where the King is the Lord knows ; for since Monsieur de Eosny went bridegrooming to Mantes the leash is slackened, or the tether longer, which you will." " And is this the way," said I sternly, being nettled as much by his easy assumption of commandership as by his cool impudence — " Is this the way that hireling trooi)ers and camp scum talk of the King ? Better beware, friend, lest a shut door come of an open mouth, and a shackled leg of a loose tongue, as have come to many a becter man than thou before this." " Faith," said he, looking me straight in the face, " the truth is as open as the mouth, and if it's as loose as the tongue, whose fault is it ? That it's truth there's no gainsaying. And when it comes TlIK KINO CIIOOKS HIR FINGKR. 9 to sluickled l(;«,^s, Vic is twenty lea^'ues iiway, {ind that's a far cry. As for trooper and camp scum, I grant there is more hireling than paid man about me, seeing that the King owes me seven montlis' up- keep, for whicli I may whistle. Tis a hard tliing if a man, lackin^L? better pay, may not fill liimself with windy words. There seems nought else on tiie hills," he added caustically, again drawing in a thirsty breath. Upon tlie hint 1 remembered liospitality and bade a lackey see to the fellow's comfort. Small wonder that his tongue was on edge. The dust and wayside heat would have soured a sweeter temper than that of a battered man-at-arms with his pay in hopeless arrears. Truly it was a fool's work to have bandied words with such a fellow, parched and fasting, and argued that I was growing dull witted in my handling of the affairs of men. "This comes," thought I, turning up the great hall with the King's letter still unopened in my liand, "of being buried in stagnation beyond the whirl of the times. Fineness of touch, whether for man or steel, lies in action. Or else Marcel was right, and at four-aud -forty a man grows numb of instinct and should stand aside that some (juicker brain may push its way to the front." The thought shook me like a blast of mountain wind on a March day — shook me spirit and body. To a man wlio for a score of years has handled the affairs of a nation, even though the nation be but 10 A KINliS PAWN. (I cock-pit to a Koimui circus, as was Navarre to Fmnce or Spain, tliu hciiij,' out-vvoiii by time, and imij,' into ii corner as past use, is a stroke as bitter »s death, afj'l indeed a man of .iction had as lief be desad as have liis ii.ses blunted. Witli that I opened the King's letter, and in it found tlie shainin',' of my mood, ttiongh with the consolation there came, as often happens to the discomtiting of a man's ease, a new cause for disquietude. What the King wrote was this : — " To Monsinir Blaise dc Btrnauld. " My Fkiend, — As you have forgotten that tlie road to Vic is by way of Ossun, I send a messenger to remind you. The Queen is at Nerac, Mornay at St Germains, llosny at Mantes; and witli only La Eochefoucauld and lioquelaure I am weary of my life and their state-craft. Crave Madame Jeanne to lend you to me, J)e Bernauld. I kiss her hand and would it were her cheek. Come to me, I beix. and if you have a tried friend bring him. "From Vic, this l7th day of July, " Your very good and assured friend, Henki. " Be speedy, for I have an admirable thought in my mind." Curt, but being in his own hand Lhvcughout *t meant more than if another had sviitteii a folio. Henry had no love for the pen. Curt, ay, but »i TIIK KINO CROOKS HIS KINOKR. U courteous ; wlierein he (littered from his Valois cousin nnd namesake in I'ari" to whom every man, not a kin^ r Ji minion, w . hickey. He wouhl have bej^'un with on imperative " liernauld," like a curse filing,' at a doj;. Twice 1 n'ad it l«. myself while Marcel stood by tu<,^«,Mn«r at his licard and eyeing me wistfully. Then I read it u third time, aloud. Why not ? Wit strikes fire from wit, and besides the sound of a LhinL; opens up its sense. When the meaning,' of a t'ainy is obscure better talk to your bedposts than not talk at all. Besides, again, Marcel was more than squire, ho was lover and friend and truer than my own heart, there- fore, I say, why not ? As I read it, slowly, and sentence by sentence, he punctuated it with grave nods. Then he said : "Make us equal, Master IJlaise. Read it out a second time and then we'll get at tl e marrow." So I began, " ' My friend.' " " Ay," broke in Marcel, " he has need of you, that's clear. But for what. Master Blaise, for what ? That's the bone we must crack." " * As you have forgotten that the road to Vic is by way of Ossun, I send a messenger to remind you.' " " There's a cunning stroke ! 'Tis you that have forgotten, not he ; oh Lord, no, not he ! And yet, for all that you have forgotten, he puts his king's dignity aside and reminds you that you lave for- gotten. It's not in nature. Mv faitli. l.'iit. he must need you sorely." 12 A king's pawn. " ' The Queen is at Nerac, Mornay at St Germains Kosny at Mantes ; and with only La Kochefoucauld and Eoquelaure I am weary of my life and their state-craft; " " The pick of the kingdom, d'you mark, and yet he sends to Bernauld ! 'Tis something hare-brained that he dare not moot to the Council. God grant it be honourable, for the King is not at all times too nice in his purposes." Crave Madame Jeanne to lend you to me, De Ber- nauld. I kiss her hand and would it were Iier cheek ' " " I'll warrant him I The King had ever an open eye for a fair face. And see how her name comes pat to his pen to cozen her with a royal memory. How could my lady say nay to so soft a request ? " , " 'Come to me, I beg, and if you have a tried triend brmg him.'" "Ay, ay, short of death or sickness there is no getting out of that. The rest you might cry off, but who can say 'No' to a king's 'I be-'? As to the friend, why, here we are, two that lovc^ Bernauld and know one another as a hand knows a .dove Thif is settled." ° " " ' Be speedy, for I have an admirable tliou-dit in my mind.' " ° " Plague take his thoughts ! How many lives will that thought cost d'you suppose, Master Blaise ? Not many, perhaps, for the thing is plainly secret, but at least yours and mine are on the venture. Plahiise was :o a queer jred as he ne another drink. I ne, Master n not the t back to re too old friends for the nice punctilio of master and servant, and I never held with keeping a trusted comrade' trotting at one's heels like a trained spaniel. When we rode in company it was another thing. Marcel would then as soon have broken the ''unwritten treaty of bread and salt as liave come within three lengths of me except upon orders or some stern necessity. Curious how that bread and salt binds the Basque peasant. Some Moslem leavening in their blood, doubtless, spread northwards from the days of the' Moorish dominion. Your peasant of France would eat at your board until his stomach cried "Enough!" or give you the pickings of his poverty, and "then for a silver testoon cut your throat in youi sleeps the same night ; but the Basque would give himself, or the son of Ins liope, to death sooner than that harm should touch you through him. " These women, these women, with their fears and fancies," laughed he. " ' Beware of Spain's men,' says the dame, and we witli our backs to the Dons, and our noses to France. Wiien she comes to a question of liquor there is more sense in it, for, on my word, 'tis one of the sorrows of threescore that a man's' head grows hot, and his hand shaking, sooner than IS reasonable. You would think, to hear these good souls talk, that they held their men to be fit'' for nought but herding sheep, and yet, I'll warrant she would be the first to cry ' Coward ! ' if I so mnnh as took thought for a whole skin when Bernauld had B 18 A king's pawn. need of me. For, d'ye mark, Master Blaise, that if her first thought was for me her last was for you, and my word on it, tliat's the thought that sticks fastest in her mind." Which, however true a saying, had as close an application to himself, and so I told him. " A pretty fellow you are to gibe," and I struck him lightly on the shoulder with my riding-whip. " The Bernaulds might go wreck, root and branch, might they not, and you would not risk so much as a finger-nail for their savincr ? " "Oh, but that," said he, very seriously, "is quite another thing. I am Bernauld straight through, both born and bred, and by reason of the blood and'' service of half-a-dozen generations; while she is no more than a kind of married chattel of the house, with some thirty years' sufferance. But," he added', " she was always reasonable, and, thank the Lord, I brought her up well." Jacques Gobineau we had left behind. Marcel saw to his rousing betimes, but the rascal came to the courtyard yawning, and with his dress flung on him awry like a man who, having slept two nights in doublet and breeches, found waking with the "sun a sore cross to the flesh. "You must hasten, fellow," cried I. "The King is impatient, and, if our beasts hold out, we shall see Vic before midnight." ^ " 'Tis a man's bounden duty to do the King's biddino"," saifl hp ottx'pI" " >"''-,. >,• , _,, ^.11., (ly, gra\ eij. r- Well, then, if Spanish Navarre revolts to French Navarre, who will say No ? Philip ? 38 A KING 8 I'AWN. I'hilip has hi.s ,.yu on Kii;,rlaiitivc, or why else is D'Kpernon so far from I'aris ? All that is on an if. hut a hird whispers that Spanish Navarre is restless, and seethes with discontent. The question is, is that true, and will Si)aniHli Navarre move { France would never pardon failure, and there is nothing less than a royal crown upon the cast. Do you know Spain, Monsieur de Jiernauld ? " "Which Spain, Sire?" asked 1, l)lunLly. "The one of the devil's niaking or that after ({od Almi-hty's pattern ? The Spain of an accursed people, or the Spain of honest hills and valleys ? The first 1 know through its men and methods, and loathe, as all Europe knows and loathes. Of the latter 1 know nought, and for reasons as big as a man's life." '• Then, my friend, you shall learn something new, and that shortly, for needs must that a man with a cool head and a stout arm ride south and sift liie truth from the lies, and ]Jlaise de Bernauld is the man for the work." "By your lewve, Sire," said I, sharply, "Blaise de Bernauld is nut the man. Have you forgotten how eighteen years ago I, with two hundred at my back, men of my own raising, raided Florida and avenged on Spain that massacre of Frenchmen France dared not avenge for herself? Have yon forgotten how we wiped Spain's accursed settlement off God's 1 4 THE KINK IDKA (tK THK KINO OF NAVAHRE. 39 lo niincl uiiry tliu vill sup- Ki»oriion t a bird I seethes I'lie, jumI (I never I a royal /loii.sieur " The ini,!4hty's , or the r know as all I know life." ng new, m with uid sift lauld is " Blaise )rgotten at my da and France >rgotten f God's earth as a man wipes a foulness from his palm. How we swe{»t the seas even as Englisli Drake and Hawkins swe[)t thcmi, bringing home such booty as Kociu'lle never saw before or since ^ How that Alva's bloodiiounds liunted Blaise de Denuiuld for the price Spain put upon his head, and struck at his life not once, nor twice, nor thrice. How that the women of thiit Diego Saumarez whon; I slew in the west set l)ravoH to lie in wait at Mernauld, and how I bear, and will bear to the grave, their sign -manual carvetl upon me, — have you forgotten all this, Sire, that you say ride south to Spain as easily as one might say why not go a-heroning for pastime ? " "Ay," said the King; "but who is there now in Spanish Navarre that cares a tig for you and your Florida raid? Jiesides, tlie story is eighteen years old, and all forgotten, j».s forgotten as " " As Saint Bartholomew,' aid I, l)itterly, as he hesitated for a word. "Good," ' ' he, "have it so. Then are times when kings should have short memories. I take your words, Monsieur de Bernauld. As forgotten as Saint Bartholomew. And what is it, after all ? To ride across the hills with as many as you will at your back, and pass a day here and a day there with those who, if the whisperings tell truth, love Albret as much as they hate iiapsburg, and that is heart and soul. Why, m:=n ris liut a week's pleasur- ing, but, as you see, no lool would serve our turn. I M 40 A king's pawn. It must be a cool head and a keen brain to sift talk from truth, since out of this thing may come the making of history." " Sire, Sire, I dare not go." "Dare not. Monsieur de Bernauld ? You dare Hout France, as you did yesterday, and risk a bloody war all for a handful of dust, but dare not face a shadow to build up peace? I say you must you and no other. Since through you has come the peril of the kingdom, through you must come its safety." "But, Sire, a moment since you jested at this De Chaussy ? " "Ay, ay. 'tis the same mouth that laughs and cries, but France has already such a hunger for Navarre that who knows how a mouthful of dust may whet her appetite. Go you must, De Bernauld, ' but have as many with you as you will." "No troop, Sire, I will take no troop," I cried " What ? have every officious busybody set ago- to know who is this that rides into Spain with" an army at his heels ? Three or four, no more, but by your leave, since I am the stake in the game the^ three or four must be of my choosing." "Said I not that you were the man!" and the King's open hand fell on my shoulder as I have seen it fall a score of times when there was a point to be won by bluff frankness. "Three or four it sliall be, but, by your leave, of my choosing, smce I am the stake and have more to lose than THE FINE IDEA OF THE KING OF NAVARRE. 41 to sift ly come ou dare I bloody ot face I must, s come it come at this IS and ^er for •f dust rnauld, cried, gog to ith an 3, but, game, id the have *vas a ee or osing, than thou hast, and know my men better. Marcel, for one. That is why I l)adc thee bring a tried friend. I know Master Marcel, ay, faith, 1 know him well. He has much of the bulldog in him for all his thin jaws. Stubborn, faithful, tenacious, and what he grips he holds. As to the otiier two, I liave them in my mind, l)e Bernauld. Never fear for theni. They love Navarre as well as thou dost, are. neither squeamish nor fools, can fight if needs be, and run if needs must, can lie upon occasion and never ruffle the brow, and can tell the truth where truth best serves their purpose, and, beyond all tliat, they have a dozen generations of good blood to vouch for them. Why ; Saints, man— forgive the oath, De Bernauld, 'tis a trick of Paris, and mayhap it will come in fashion again — the thing is as good as done. 'Tis you, and such as you, are the true makers of histoiy. The name is the name of Henry, or of liosny, or the like, but the hand is Bernauld's. As for plans, we will settle all that when this popinjay duke has come and gone. He is twenty -four hours behind, says De Chaussy ; give him a second twenty-four to say his say, and a third to get back to Guienne. Be ready four days hence,. and meanwliile let your tongue be as silent as the grave where lies Diego Saumarez. If a bird of the air carried the matter it might fare ill with the King's friends. You understand ? " Again he clapped me on tlie shoulder, and five minutes later I found myself tramping down the 42 A king's pawn. stairway, with ray heart flutterino- as if the King had given me a dukedom instead of setting me to play knucklebones with the devil of Spain, and, for all his denial, my own life the stake. Later, as I thought it over in cold blood, I said as I had said at Bernauld, plague take the ideas of Henry of Navarre, and the second thouglit was the truer. I might have added, plague take myself since my bout with I)e Chaussy had, in a measure' set me under the King's thumb. But it is a great comfort to a man's nature to have some othe^r to curse besides himself. King 43 CHAPTEE IV. HOW THE KING REFUSED THE THRONE OF FRANCE. Whether D'Epernon lagged upon the road 1 know not, but he was certainly a day later than the King had reckoned. It was not upon the first but on the second day after our reaching Vic that Marcel came to me about an hour and a half past noon with news of the arrival of tlie embassy. I had dined, and dined well and placidly as became a man whose meat was to his liking, and whose appetite, digestion, and con- science were alike good ; and was lingering over the last half of the one tiask of wine that was my dining allowance. Some men hold it a kind of virtue that they can drink their three or four, or even their five bottles and yet not be utterly drunken, but I have seldom found a man wliose judgment in delicate affairs was as sound after the end of the second bottle as before the beginning of the first; and that a man should put himself to the test of a hogshead with an air of pride seems to me a folly. Not that I despise the hard head that can with- stand assaults, whether from within or without. It 44 A king's pawn. <» Patli of hfe, and I was presently fo see just sueh a stoutness of brain save four men fron. destruetio b„ or a. .ts uses it is a poor thing to boast of. My one Hasic of Gascony wine was, tl.erefore, „.y uj and .t was at its last glass when Marcel came to me ' s.id H «"' ' ""''' «"P »" *« «'"^'« «f l"ek" h CW irv"" ^ '"■' ^'""- ™» -^-S'-^ about he K ngs orders I dared not give him an inkling of he scheme n. prospect. "The King will have you and Ber„a.dd there, but what Bernauld reaps out of t all the Lord only knows. Nought, I expect, but hard knocks, scant thanks, and a starved purse But there's the King's „„„ „,,,,,^, ,^^^ ^^'^^ Monsieur de Eohan." ^ " «'™" yon how long since ? " ,,aid I, setting down the glass and rising from my stool. t^ced , maybe an hour back, for I mind n.e dinner was no more than served." '' What, fool ? " cried I in consternation ; " thou hast made the King wait whilst I " ^nou test "Not a whit, not a whit," he said hastily; "there has been no waiting. He has these iino French gent en,en to fill the tin.e, and to ,„, „,„ ,, ^ -a er thmg that you went up full than fast.n; Whe a ,„an goes an.ong such cattle he never HOW THE KING REFUSED THE THRONE. 45 But I left liiiii babbling, and so never heard the end of his excuses. That Henry of France had not sent D'Epernon all the way from Paris to say bluntly " Anjou is dead," I knew full well. No, no ; some- thing that touched both France and Navarre lay behind such an embassage, and here had tliis fool lost me, perhaps, the hearing of it. With a do;5en fancies fighting in my head I made my way to the castle, only to find that the public audience was ended, and the King and D'Epernon, witli certain of their suites, retired into Henry's cabinet. Thither I went, and though D'Arros would have turned me back I would take no denial. The King had called me and to the King I would go, and in the end I won my point as a man commonly does who is but insistent enough, and so was present at a notable scene. The King's cabinet filled the angle of the castle, and was a long, narrow room with one window at the end and two at the right hand side. From it one door opened on the corridor and a second into the reception hall, where he had met me two days before. It was, therefore, private, and out of the way of casual interruption. Down the lower half of the middle of the room ran a narrow table, beyond it being a great arm-chair, with half a dozen lesser chairs, straight backed and leather seated, grouped round it. There, in the centre, sat the King, one knee flung across the other while he leaned not on the chair arm but on the sword hilt propping up his 46 A king's pawn. ^i; ' and at sight of Marniet I guessed in a flash r)'FnAvn..«'. • • «»««««u in a flash DEpernons ...on, and that Hen., would speak No brtter controversialist was Marmet, no .dcwi„„ fi ebrand .„ a blacic cassock, no narrow b got ridTt: strL: of ""''^ '"^ '"'" "' «"" ^"^ '-e It St ataon of pure rel.gio,,, but a man of peace and oufof t^ as .i,d as he was sincere, and' one ^ found itarTt' '"""""^ "' '"^ '""'''• -"'^ "av mm and alJ Ins works. Por him th« mdlenn.um was always just beyond the door „d t confidently looked to see the Catholic lion He d Ln w,th the Huguenot lamb, though how they were to reconde their differences of creed and T !\u «.s Of blood that lay across b:tT muTt^. ^r ! «h.s faith. Marmefs presence, therefo;rd: werri>Cnof Vch"^'''''^^ '"-' '-'■ I'errier and a r ^''^' *' '^''"'"-^^"''^ ^n emer, and a I ,c,soan monk whom I presently me to know as ..other Mark, a man with 'the a e c^rrei:;/j:;;rb;;ro::r- your vojir,fn,,Q -^-M • . -^ ^" "^se as HOW THE KING REFUSED THE THRONE. 47 , Roque- )reacher ; a Hash d speak ready to denion- ice and fie who, d have of his im the and he down ere to et the sorely , made back, r Du lently face ■ay, a the and 5 no e as In front of Henry was, as I have said, D'Epernon, and a fine figure of a man he made. Thirty years old, and therefore only in the beginning of the prime of life, Jean Louis de Nogaret deserved his description as the handsomest man at the Court of his master ; and to good looks he added that easy assurance, touched with arrogance, which comes of unchecked success and the security of a king's favour. Governor of the Three Bishoprics and the Boulonnais and prime favourite of Henry of Valois, than whom no king was ever more devoted to those who won his love, he could afford to look the world insolently in the face. That he had so looked, and in his pride had ruffled our Bourbon, I knew from the King's first words. " Let us have done with compliments," he was saying as I entered. " Leave aside the sugar and come to the bitter. Monsieur le Due. Or have men in Paris taken to calling dukes of my cousin Valois' creation ' Monseigneur ' yet ? No ? Well, it will come, but for the present ' Monsieur le Due ' must content us. I am sure the King has not deprived himself of the great happiness of your company for so many days simply to bid me good morning gracefully. Come to the point, I say." " What my master bade me say. Sire, he bade me say to your private ear." " Then," answered Henry, " what does the Chan- cellor here, and our friend in the grey frock ? " " To urge the King's reasons, Sire, and so brin" conviction " 48 i A KING'S I'AWN. "■^»«>- pardon," .sai.l Henrv . ,- -"--■our, tl,ese .e„tle,„e„ yotT ' ,"'""«'"• Well, -^ '^e.,ore ,„„ „„, ^t i^"!,"-. N,ava„, -^'or a moment I)'j?n ''*"^^^7. "». -'^■.■n, „p h,-„ ^i^ ;;'-; one to the other ; ■'««-.. speaking .„„„,^ ,;, '» "- "navoidable, he word,, with care. ™™.festly piefci„g ,„.^ ^"''oved brother, out of I '" "'" ^'«'"'' »' his -" »•" of his bur, n :r '"" "^ "-'^ '0 ,o Church, desires to nr^e lotv .r"' "'"'^ Mother «'«' lies in deferrin^; JH" ^'"! "''' "^^Wo ^ am »a«ter affectionately pra " 7 /'^'' >"" ^y „« '"« message which he doT" '""'' '"'"' '-d to -» vouchsafe through tS J ,7 ^ 'P'"' "^ «od 7";- worth and hon J al f '''^ ''"'^ ?"-'. '»a]c.ng but are the very 1 ""'. ''"'"' "^ "an's ^iyhty God." ^ Sift and inspiration „f "^y," said the K'ino. i '>^<' never shifted li" fr "'f ^" '''■'^ ^Poeoh -'Oiled hi» as a warytnj ""t ^ °''"'^ *-' "« '" P'o-c the hust Of Jord?; :t 7 ''^^'•— y; "'le teruel of mean- I HOW THE KING KEFUSED THE THltONE. 49 "^ in briskly; nought. Well' me — welcome -are 2»fav.arre '-'^^^ing his lip to the other; avoidable, he' picking his uncertainty 'eath of his ears to you, o^J Mother ibie danger J return to ce in this come. In Jre, I am y nie my ^ heed to t of God ^y priest, >f man's ation of speech ^ce, but ersary ; mean- ing and be blunt, he would have me turn Catholic a second time. To what end, monsieur ? Once 1 heard Mass for a jewelled bonnet and a bare chance of life, but now — to what end, I say again ? " "Sire, as I have said, under the shadow of his brother's death the King, my master, is keenly sensible of tl e spiritual danger " " La, la, la," broke in Henry. " When the Kinrr your master has fewer mistresses, and keeps treaties with better faith, it will be time enougli to preach religion to a Huguenot. Ilemember this is Navarre's private ear, so to the point, monsieur, to the point." " There is always this, Sire, and I say it with all respect— Paris is the very prude of orthodoxy, and can never hold out her arms to the new religion." " Ah ! but, monsieur," retorted the King drily, " I have no love for prudes." " Then view it this way, Sire. Paris is the pivot of Europe ; Paris is a tree that shadows all France." " I admit and regret the shadow," answered Henry ; " but your tree has its roots in the provinces, and so draws strength even from far-off Beam, and I make a shrewd guess tliat a growth from the ancient root of Saint Louis may one day flourish in Navarre, and luo thanks to. the goodwill of Paris. To be blunt again monsieur, since it is my nature to be downright, there is no longer a Valois to succeed a Valois, and the King your master says to Henry of Bourbon, ' Be Catholic, and you may be Kin" hereafter,' Am \ right ? " D. 50 A king's pawn. " I have no mission, Sire- " " What ? You would catch Navarre without even a bait to the hook ? Is this your mission, Master Chancellor, and yours, too, priest ? " " Let the barrier be removed, Sire," answered Du Ferrier, "and what need is there for promises? Do you not stand on the steps of the throne?" 'Ay, by the Lord! do I," cried Henry, llin-ing himself back in his chair and staring the Chancellor proudly in the face; "and let him who seeks to thrust me down beware of himself, lest ho slip and fall head- long. Now, sir priest, it is your turn." Down upon his knees went Brother Mark. " Sire," he said, " my King is the King eternal, and therefore I can humble myself to man without shame. Here, as His ambassador, and kneeling at your feet, I pray you in His name to give France peace. From Artois to Navarre the land is sick of blood, and cries out against the miseries of war. Listen, Sire, listen ! Can you not hear France weeping for her children, and not comforted because they are not ? And is Navarre dumb ? Has she no tears ? Is there a home within its borders, be it that of prince or peasant, that does not mourn its dead ? These two, Sire, France and Navarre— these two cry to you this day to dry their tears and bid them stay their sobbing. That one God of peace. He whom we alike serve, though from dif- ferent altars, waits upon your answer. In His name, Sire, and for the salvation of France and your own beloved birthright, give us peace." His words I can 1 X I HOW THE KINO REFUSED THE THUONE. ni a tell you, or something like th(3m, but tho man's passion- broken tones, as his voice pled and wailed, are beyond me. But tliis I know, he sent a shiver tlirough mo that, rising at the heart, rippled down to the very finger-tips, and I thanked Clod 1 was not King of Navarre. While he spoke Henry sat eyeing him with his hawk's look, never stirring nor shifting liis gaze, and the silence that followed was breathless with the fate of a nation. It was a conscious relief to all when at length the King answered him, and to me a double relief that his clear, hard, cool sense brushed aside the snare that would have trapped me. " These, monk, are things of policy, and no words will make them more. Can a man juggle with his soul's health for policy ? Tell me that." Whereupon Brother Mark broke afresh into a torrent of words, of which I gathered no more than this : There was Marmet and here was lirother Mark. Let the King appoint judges to hear, weigh, and consider; and then act as the Holy Spirit inspired them. Whicli, at the first blush, seemed a more reasonable and tolerant thing than might have been looked for from a hunter of Huguenots. But the King would none of it. " In this case," cried lie, " I alone am the judge, since who can come between a man and his conscience ^ and whose ' yea ' shall suffice in the Great Judgment hereafter if God now snitli ' nay ' ? Or if there be another judge joined with me, which I doubt, it is the 1 J 52 A KINO'r pawn. faith of froo Navarro. As to the inspiration, tlie Spirit hath spoken already, monk, both in my time and in our mother's, and under His teacliing we have thrust away priestly aggression further tlian we are like to reach a hand to drag it back again." " Ah, Hire," said the Franciscan sorrowfully, as he rose to his feet, " I fear before God you have no wish to be converted." Whereupon tlie King rounded on him with his eyes ablaze. •' Understand ; it is you who come to seek me, and not I you; and I hold it to be God's truth that France has greater need of me than T of France, and that tlie need will grow." On that J)u Ferrier, the Chancellor, had a word to say. A calm and politic man, JJu Ferrier. Hitherto, saving for once, he had held his peace, watching the' changes of the tide with alert eyes, and listening to the play of words. Now he broke in. "We bring you. Sire, as the Lord of old brought Moses to the top of Pisgah, that you may see the promised land. But there is a division between, Sire, and it is for you to say whether you will cross and enter in." " Eather," interrupted La Eochefoucauld, and speak- ing with naked bluntness, " you show the King the kingdoms of this world and the glories of them"", and say, ' All these do we give you if you will fall down and worship the devil.' There are mountains and mountains, Sir Chancellor ; and as to your figure of HOW THK KING HKKl'.SKI. THIS THHONE. 53 Moses, if the Kinj,' followed your beck he mi^ht be lost in as unknown a yravu as that in the Vale of Moab." " I speak to the Kin^', and from him 1 take my answer," said I)u I'errier lietween his teeth. " You speak to Navarre," retorted La llocheluu- cauld. " To Navarre that remembers that thern is a Huguenot Cond(5 as well as a Huguenot Vendome. It IS by Navarre, monsieur, that the last word will be said." " Peace, Franrois, let that rest," said the Xing ; "and remembo*- my Lord Chaneellor is representative of my good ' ousin, and to comiiare the King of France to the devil a in y. ur heat you did a moment l)ack, is a kind of 'Vir KMJestd. Now, monk, if you have aught to say, say on." Had Brother Maik aught to say ? Verily he had, else Brother Mark liad not been there at all. For a moment he stood silent, looking down upon the lloor, and his hands clenched hard. Then he faced the King, and it may be that I read liim wrong, but there seemed to be a subordinating of will and conviction to instruction. " As you, Sire," and he looked across the King's shoulder at Marmet, who stood behind, " have been already so well instructed in the Holy Faith, I will leave aside all niceties of theology." " Ay," said Henry, and from where I stood at the side I c: ild SCO his face harden, " I remember well •the instructing. It was some three days before Bar- I 54 A king's pawn. If^ tholomew, and the final arguments were well demon- strated : at least few stood against them. Thou art right, monk : leave niceties aside." For a moment the monk was staggered at the thrust ; then, with a deep breath, he gave himself to his task. Now, when a man whose trade it is to talk, whether from a pulpit, a rostrum, or an upturned barrel-head fronting a quack's booth — when such a one, I say, lets his tongue loose, the common man who sits below with mouth and ears open understands no more than it is meant he should. Is there a weak spot in the argu- ment ? — it is slid across as lightly as a boy skims on day-old ice. Is there a point that tells ? — it is ham- mered and twisted and laboured and fashioned as a smith shapes a lancehead out of a clumsy plough- share, and in tho end, amidst the froth of words and the jangle of phrases, he holds little more in his memory than that black's white, or maybe blue, or yellow, or green, as the speaker chooses. Of Brother Mark's argument, therefore, I remember little in detail, but to my poor judgment it seemed that he had more discretion than a right appreciation of the King's mind, for he left aside the weighty dif- ferences and dwelt rather on the points of approxima- tion. But these, too, he soon turned his back upon, and what I remember best savoured more of the wily politician than the earnest theologian. It came back to what had already been said, and mav bf> summed up in this: The Lord has set before you HOW THE KING REFUSED THE THRONE. 55 this day life and death, blessing and cursing : the life not of yourself, the blessing not of yourself, but of the people whose lord and yet whose servant you are. After all, if that arrow failed to go home he might keep the rest in his quiver, for it was the straightest and surest of them all. When he ended we looked to Marmet to break the silence that followed, but Henry stopped the preacher with a gesture and answered for himself. " You are weak, monk, you are weak, for you seek to dazzle the Hesh rather than convince the spirit. With policies I will have nought to do ; but as for the little leaven of theology that touched your discourse, here is my reply : I say not that you are altogether wrong and we altogetlier rigb- It is, rather, that the light of God comes to this mist-girt earth in a line direct from Himself, and here breaks in this direction or in that, no one having the entire of light and no one the utter darkness. But to be honest with you, it seems to me that into your light there have drifted more and greater motes than into ours, and it behoves a man to see to it that his soul lives as much as may be in the undimmed shining of Almighty God. I like not your Church's ways. Liberty is the very soul of faith, and were I to become heretic to my conscience, whether through compulsion of fear from witliout or greed from within, I would be bondslave to unbelief — an evil case, since he who flings away faith, flings hope and charitv after it." My own thought is that Henry, having guessed 56 A king's pawn. their mission, had prepared his set reply; for neither his matter nor his fashion of speaking was after his common manner. Be that as it may. with his last words he rose, so putting an end to the audience. l.a Rochefoucauld. Eoquelaure, Mamiet, attend these gentlemen. Monsieur le Due. I will prepare fitting letters for your master's private eye. Assure hnn of our deep and Christian sympathy in the heavy gnet which has fallen upon his house. For the pre- sent, gentlemen, farewell : attairs of state press upon Trders" ''^'''^' ^' ^'""'"'''' ''" ^"" ""''"'' '"^ At the door there was some little confusion, and above the murmur of whispering voices I heard La Kocheloucauld say, as if in reply to some comment by D Epernoii, — " If you come to comparisons, monsieur, I only wish some one would offer you the crown of France in one hand and a few psalms in the other! I know well which you would choose ! " 67 CHAPTEK V. THE CONDESCENSION OF THE DUG D'EFERNON. As the door closed the King stood silent a moment, his head upon his breast, half listening to the echoes from the corridor and half in thought. He had shut all France and the glory of a great throne outside the door, and for the moment Navarre must have shrunk very small in his eyes. Tlien he roused himself and, drawing his hand across his forehead with a quick gesture, as a man does who brushes aside a thought, turned to me. " Which was it, De Bernauld — honestly meant or a snare ? " " A snare, Sire," replied I promptly ; " when did a Valois follow a straight path or seek any end but his own ? " But he shook his head. " You are wrong, you are wrong ; I am persuaded it was an honest hint, but ill judged. Did you hear La Rochefoucauld ? ' There is a Cond^,' said he bluntly, ' if a Vendome fails ' ; nor can I blame him when I remember that his father perished in Bartholomew. What ? Could I dream 58 A king's pawn. IB that the sons of Coligny, Montamar, La Force, Piles, Teligny, and a hundred others would knit their fortunes with those of a man who trampled their fathers' blood under-foot that he might mount a throne which rests upon their graves ? Never. They would have flown to Conde first, and there would be two Kings in Navarre instead of one, and a bloodier, bitterer, deadlier war than has ever yet cursed us, for it would have been a war of brother and brother. No, no, it was well meant but ill judged." " But, Sire," cried I, " this is policy, and you would none of their policies." " If a man have two good reasons, De Bernauld, need he give them both when one will suffice ? Was' it for me to put the suggestion in D'Epernon's head that he might play off a Cond^ against a Vend6me, and so let France eat the oyster, leaving the shells to Ud whoever won ? By the Lord, no. But mark this; there is more need than ever for your ride to Spain. Paris will now be cold to us, and needs must that Navarre loom large in the eyes of France. If the Spanish pretext fails us, then, my friend, there will be nothing left but war. Come what will, France must not forget who claims the crown. I am frank because I trust you, De Bernauld and so tell you this, and lest you still have scruples about this woman Sau- marez who. I doubt not, is dust these dozen years." And yet, for all his frankness, he, as was his custom with us all, told me no more than suited his plans, and that was about half his thought. THE CONDESCENSION OF THE DUC D'EPERNON. 59 i " To-morrow D'Epernon comes for his conge. After • Paris the court of Navarre is not to his taste. Did you hear him sneer at our poverty ? No ? Ah, it was at the public audience so as to give sharper point to his courtesy. ' 'Twas rare,' said he with a courtly bow, and contempt in his face, ' to see a king's followers so free from the bonds of fashion ! ' upon which I told him that for the present the court livery of Navarre was a mailed jacket, and that I prayed God I and mine might never have cause to return the ceremony of a state visit ! The fool ! to risk his master's business for the sake of a vulgar gibe. Well, he takes leave to-morrow, and rides north the next morning. Let him be once gone, and the sooner you are south thereafter the better." " To-morrow, then, Sire. Marcel is already grum- bling at the delay." " Is he so ? Ay, ay, trust the old war-horse to smell action ! Yet, let him understand, and you also, De Bernauld, that the errand is one of peace and quietness. There must be no rulliing, no hectoring, no quarrelling over nice points. He who can pocket an insult and bide in patience until the time comes to pay the debt is the truest lover of Navarre." " But the language. Sire." " Chut ! a Basque understands Basque whether it be of France or Spain." Taking a map from a drawer, he spread it out upon the tabic. " Here is Vic ; be at Pau two days hence, and if 60 A king's pawn. ■I h cunous tongues ask questions let it be thought you nde home to Be.naulcl. Fr„n, Pau take the road to Oloron, there turn south, and wait where a stream rom the west joins the Gave d'Aspe. The rendezvous IS there, four days from this. Is it clear ? " " But, Sire, why not all ride in com.Bii.v ?■• "To save gossip, n.y friend. Thar' yon and yo.r squ.re sh„uld return to Pan is nothiu,, for i, is „JI o„ your journey ; but let two of my court j., with you- the two „,ark you, I have in my mind-and there would be no end to the .hatter. No, no, from the Uve d Aspe onwards the con.rna.d is yours, and I can promise you that the men I will pick have learned ote, ,,.nce , but here it is ,ny busine.,s. Now, farewell, De „.n,.t,)d; ke„p an open eye, a quick ear, a cool head. ..,0 a qK.et tongue, and I will warrant that ten days !;.-;„ce you will give a good account of yourself" and? ' T, ^l '""^ '™''"^'' "« '" "' '1"^ ^"Wnet, and so stifled the do.en questions I had yet to ask a favourite method with Hei.ry of Navarre when' ho had said his say and had no mind to listen to objections. Marcel I found waiting nie at our lodgings and rorn the packed saddle-bags it was evident that he had his mmd made up for a speedy move roilT' "' """'" ""'""'" '' "■"'' " ^"^^ "^ sot the " ^y" answered I, " to Pau to-morrow." " To Pau ? » and his face lengthened. " In the Lord'» name, why to Pau ? " THE CONDESCENSION OF THE DUG d'EPERNON. 61 " Because the Kinj]f wills it, my friend ; but wait, wait ; from Pau we go — elsewhere." " Oh, ay," he grumbled. " I said from the first there was danger, and now I must run into it blindfold like a fool." " You run nowhere that I don't lead," answered I, "and what has served your turn for twenty years may well serve it now. If it were my affair I would tell you the truth plump, but it is the King's business, and so there's an end of it." Which, though it did not content him, at least shut his mouth. Yet, it was barely the truth, for I am frank to confess that the Spanish woman was much in my mind; and even if I had had the King's leave I might have told him nought, for I dreaded lest a whisper of our ride south should blow ahead of us across the mountains. Not that I had an uneasy conscience as regards Diego Saumarez, her son. By the Lord who made me, no ; a hundred times, no ! He, through treachery and in the blunt callousness of cold blood, had slaughtered our expedition to a man, even after hospitality given and received, so that I alone escaped. The vengeance that I afterwards took upon him and his was no more than his due, and if I go to my God with no greater guilt on my soul than the slaying of Diego Saumarez there in Florida, I will have little to repent of. But thrice the woman had tried hard to strike me, and I had no mind of set deliberation to Dut mvself within arm's length of her. 62 A king's pawn. I I That she was dead was the King's whi.n, and indeed might well be true seeing how far gone she would be 1" age If living. Diego Saumarez had been some five- and-thirty years old; it was sixteen years since I had slain him ; add some twenty-three or four to that, and he w,tch, if still on the face of the earth, could be little short of seventy-five. That the devil the mother had gone to join tlie devil the son I trusted, but remembering these three attempts at cool murder, 1 iield caution to be no shame. But not even when I had closured Marcel's grumbles had the tide of talk ceased Mowing for the day At "The Three Stars" we supped early, as became sober people, and the dusk was still warm in the west when the host came fussing to my room in a tine pucker of importance. " One of the French gentlemen is witliout, mon^ sieur, said he, bowiug as he had never bowed to i>laise de Bernauld, the King's guest. " Will ye nill ye, he must see you. J^.y ()nr Lady he is a fine figure of a man, and we poor inn-keepers of Navarre would be happy had we " " Eh, eh ? " I broke in shortly, for it vexed me to see how easily the man's servile mood was bough l "What's that ? What has Our Lady to do here in Vic ? " " Wiiat, monsieur ? Did I say so? Truly these i^rench fashions get a hold of a man." " French crowns, rather ! " said L " But show him m, man, lest he give you ten francs more, and you turn Catholiu outright." THE CONDESCENSION OF THE DUC D'EPERNON. 63 " One of the French .u;entlemen !" said Pierre Coue. On my faith it was D'Epernon himself, and had I been the brother of his love he could not have embraced me with a greater show of aflection : show, I say, for the pretence was as hollow as a rotten filbert. If kings were wise there are some men they would never send on emljassies, and D'Epernon was one of them; unless, indeed, to his Holiness Tope Gregory, Philip of Spain, or the royal vixen of England. With these he had been civil all through, lest their great- ness put a slight upon him ; but there in Navarre the courtesy was but a courtesy on top, a thin veneer tliat barely covered the arrogant contempt which possessed the man for so petty a place as The Little Kingdom. When a man's greatness fills his own eyes his master's cause is likely to suffer. So was it now. The man played a part, and his heart wr s so little in his mission that he plnyed it badly. " We ride hence to-morrow or the next day, Master de Bernauld," said he,, flinging on the table the huge cloak wherewith he had disguised his magnific<3nce, " and before leaving, it behoves me first to pay my debts, or rather my master's." " Debts ! " answered I, " debts ? To my thinking Navarre owes France more than France Navarre, and has small chance of paying a full reckoning." " Nay, nay, nay, let that rest," and he waved his hand airily, as if with a gesture he had ooce and for all put an end to a people's v/ronc^s. " The debt is an apology. Master de Bernauld, an apology on 64 A king's pawn. I '; .' the part of that ill-mannered De Chau«sy. You did right to treat him to such a lesson, and I tell him It IS thanks to your forbearance that our embassage 18 not a member short." " 'Tis no thanks to himself," answered T drily, " for whetb' • ^ l,is tongue or his swurd he bungled like "Well, well, well," and he shrugged his shoiuJers impatiently. " he played the fool and suffered for it and I have said that he got his deserts, and so there's' an end." Then he turned from mc and wnlked up and down the little room in five hasty strides, combing his beard with his fingers the while. Suddenly lie stopped and faced me. " This is a doomsday for Navarre, Master de Ber- nauld ; a doomsday, I say. What ? You were there ? " " A doomsday ? " answered I, watching him, and with less thought of what he said thn,. .,f what was to come next. " As to that, Monsieur le Due, every dav IS a doomsday." " Tush, tush, you are no fool if your King is. We havr. heard of you, and you know very well what I mean, lour King had fortune in his lap to-day and n,,ng i^ out ag in like a handful of parched peas' The ^ailift- of liouen is dead, Master de Lernauld and mv King bade me tell -ou so. The revenues' are 2000' crowns i;-year." " Ha, the King of iN-.varre could Iiardly sink sa low aS' ikal," p^'^^wered 1 gravely. . You did 1 I tell him ' embassage drily, " for ungled like ■I shoiuJers ired for it, 1 so there's and down L,' his beard topped and er de Ber- re there ? " him, and hat was to every day ; is. We veil whati p to-day, hed peas. Lernauld, revenues sink so- THE CONDESCENSION OF TFIE DUC d'KI'ERNON. 65 Wliereupon he ^'ell into a chair and laughed as I had not seen man laugh for a twelvemonth. " Oh, you provinci lis, you provincials," he gasped between his gulTaws, " you will be the end of me. The first prince of the blood Baililf of Rouen at 2000 crowns a-year .' Sair-^s ! how Henry will laugh when I tell liim this ! 'Tis for yourself, man, for yourself." "Oh, for myself," said 1, still gravely, "browns are crowns, and scarce enough in Navarre. With my King's permission, monsieur, I accept." This sobered my lord Duke, as it was meant to do, for his laughter was too personal to be to my liking, and gathering his sprawling limbs together he sat up. "There is, ^ iturally, a trille of condition," said he, staring at me curiously, " but notliing, belie v' me, that a gentleman need boggle at. Merely this. Your nomination dates from the hour yon self-willed fool tliinks better of to-day's obstinacy, and carrit>s you with him, France could hardly place Eouen in the hands of a Huguenot. You understand ? " " Two thousand crowns, did you say, monseigneur ? " " Two thousand, ay, and in sucli a place there are always pickings, the taking of whicli will be iked at. It's a bargain, eh ? " " Commend me to his Majesty, Monsieur le Due," answered I, very humbly. " Truly I think he ranks poor Blaise de Bernauld over 1 aiy." " Not a whit, not a whit ; " aik! rising to his feet, D'Rperi_'jn reached for his cloak ! " there i?^ no need for thanks." B *■» 66 A kino's pawn. f "Yes. over highly," I persisted, "seeing that Judas sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver, paid once and for all. and T am valued at 2000 crowns a-year. The market for traitors has gone up. What is your price, Monsieur le iJuc ? " With one hand upon my hip and the other twirling my moustache, I set myself before him. " Come, talking privately and between rascals, what. I say, is your price ? " "My price, fellow, do you dare " " Ta, to, ta," I broke in ; " fellow me no fellows lest I make a boast that there were Bernaulds of Bigorre before Nogarets of Epernon were so munh as dreamed of. As to what 1 dare. I dare be a loyal gentleman — loyal to my God, to my (-on- science, and to my King. What, monsieur ?— under cover of your office you would seduce the Kino's servants ? If I am the first you have apj.roached, let me be the last, lest the thing come to my Master's ears. His temper is short at times, Mon- sieur le Due." Turning to the door, I flung it open and called down the stairs at the strongest pitch of my voice • " Below, there, Pierre Cou(5 ; lights for Monseigneur le Due d'Epernon," and so bowed him out. I had no mind to have it bruited abroad that Blaise de Bernauld was in secret conference with the enemies of Navarre. The poorer a man is, the more need he has to keep his honour from the breath of scandal. Fifty thousand crowns a-year are amnle witness to the excellence of a man's reputation. ' I 67 leing that of silver, at 2000 J gone up. 1 one hand noustache, privately price ? " 10 fellows naulds of so mueh are be a my con- ? — under e King's proached, ! to my les, Mon- id called y voice : iseigneur I had liaise de enemies re need ■eath of i ample tion. CHAriEK VI. HOW marcel's hunger lost its edge. What a blessing it was to be free of the cramped and pent-up narrow ways of Vic none can tell but those who love God's country better than man's town. Even the smother of hot dust could not choke our satisfaction as, the day following, we took the back track to Pau. With the whole day on our hands, and the beasts' strength to save because of the journey which lay beyond, there was no sense in haste. So, through the hottest of the day we lay in shade on the crisp grass and drowsed, or tramped in talk our many marches over again, and thus rode up to the inn in the cool of the dusk. Supper was nearly ended, and a motley crowd had gathered on the benches before the door. Grave citizens greedy for the last news, travelling chapmen of the better sort, soldiers of fortune and misfortune, with a sprinkling of court gallants, — each class herd- ing by itself, with a busy flitting of serving-men from group to group. In the fail of a July night it is pjeas^yjter drinking one's wine outdoors rather than 68 A KINPx's PAWN. huddled up in the stewing odours of the common room, where the reek of many meats spoils the flavour of the liquor. In such a laughing, chattering, gossiping throng, intent upon their own pleasures, our coming would have passed unnoticed— a thing I greatly wished, since I had no mind to talk openly of either past or future, nor yet seem to hide a secret— but for what I deemed a piece of officious buffoonery. Having given up our beasts to the care of the inns-folk, we were shouldering our way to the door, intent upon supper, when I felt my elbow plucked with small ceremony, and a shrill voice cried out— " Here is a sober fortune, master, or rather a pair of them, so have done with your jests. To look at the two, you would say they carried all Navarre on their backs, and, by my faith, they have their share ! " and a hand smote me briskly between the shoulders, driving up into the air a cloud as heavy as a puff of smoke. " Who gave you leave, friend, to annex so large a part of The Little Kingdom ? " Turning sharply, 1 found myself face to face with a tall slip of a girl, whose brown fingers still held me fast by the arm. Behind her, one lean hand gripping her shoulder, the other leaning on a stout stick, was the frailest and most wrinkled mortal that could totter on two legs and a crutch. Withered and thin, he seemed shrunken into bone and parchment, and ..,.,. ,.,. .,,,^ paioieci Chill una restless, siiiiting eyes, % "■% V le common the flavour ng throng, ling would ly wished, ler past or b for what ire of the ) the door, w plucked ■ied out — her a pair 'o look at Favarre on ir share ! " shoulders, a puff of 50 large a face with i held me I gripping stick, was lat could and thin, lent, and ing eyes, >i HOW marcel's hunger lost its edge. 69 he might have passed for a specimen of tlie em- balmer's skill. As I stood staring, halting between impatience and compassion, Marcel from behind me put my thoughts into words. " Jests, and with him ! The Lord be good to us, but I would as soon jest with death liimself ! " " No, no, not him, but my other master," answered the girl, looking back across her shoulder. "See where he comes yonder." Hopping, skipping, and playing antic; now upon his heels, now on his toes, now rolling like a cart- wheel, came a lad dressed as a jester — bells, bauble, cockscomb, and all. " Two masters ? " he cried. " Ay, ay, and so have we all. Now one is lord, now the other : wisdom or folly, youth or age, death or life. Two for all, only some have three, like Messire Daillon in the corner yonder." " Life and death are enough for most men. How is the third called ? " said the girl. " Wife by her husband, shrew by the neighbours, and madanie by the priest. Eh, messire ? " and the lad shook his bells in the air with a crash. Then he leaned forward, and thrusting his cockscomb under the flap of a broad -brimmed hat, tilted it over its owner's eyes. " Which do you serve," ho cried, " youth or ige ? " " Youth," answered the lad, a fresh-faced boy with a laugh in his brown eyes, " and will for ten years." "Then you serve me. and sinne I am fnllv voi. serve folly. Like master, like man." 70 A king's pawn. "If that be so, then I serve age." "Tell that to your sweetheart, and see how she'll take the complimenf T'li ^ 111 warrant your tincrlincr ears wll prove y„„ mfs servant stifl. Thou art ■ "7 '»'"^' *- "' »ine, and for tan years" Even a small jest pleases a full stomach, but amid the laughter that greeted the mountebank' ret^ I wrenched .uy arm free from the girl's grasp. -e,giri,''sr?anrr^r;r~- -arnr" "'' / ""'" ''■■■ ^^"' '"^' his trembling gaze fluttering from Marcel to me and hn.v • to Marcel. '""''' "Sam "What was it yon man said?" an,l Ufn- i.- Wy staff he pointed it tremu.ous.rat t^^i ^ ^_I^t h.m have his Jest ready, for I say again, I ca„!ht f '" f "'"""' °™'°"y ''«' """-t had caugh. her words, for he turned upon her angrily. Who says that death is a curse ? " he cried sirilly A cursf? to him 'vh ^ f ■ « oinuiy, '" ' ^'^^ ^"^^^ ^^^^t lies beyond, but to \c^^ HOW marcel'h hunger lost its edge. 71 3 how she'll 3ur tingling Thou art years." ih, but amid k's retort I Lsp. [■less, but it some other to the inn ^ering voice tremblinff back again lifting his >he squire. ' again, I J, but this ed out of hitened. ^hisijered, ized him, Jient had frily. d shrilly. 1, but to no one else. Nor is it of my bringing. If I smell it, I smell it because it is there ; and if it is there, not all the terror in the world will thrust it back an hour." A second time he lifted his stick and pointed it first at me and then at Marcel. " It is you or you,'' he said, " for it was not in the air until ye came, but which of the two it is I know not. Give me your hand, master, that I may see." But Marcel, to whom he spoke, drew back. "Not I, by the Lord. The whole thing's a mumming lie for money, and I will have nought to do with it." Leaning heavily on the girl's shoulder, the old necromancer shut his eyes and stood a moment silent, and swaying on his tottery feet. Then suddenly he looked up, blinking, and thrusting his stick forward, struck Marcel on the breast. " I saw it, and it was there," he said, " but whether it was thee or the other was hidden. A lie ? " and he broke out into a high cackle of a laugh. " Ay, ay, so they all say because it frights them to believe the truth, and if the vision be two weeks old and untrue it is indeed a lie, but not till then, my master, not till then. Come, girl." "True or false, jest or earnest," said I, "it was well played. Let the gaffer warm his old bones with a mouthful of good wine to-night." and I dropped a coin into her hand. " Ay, ay, take it, girl ; we must live, we must live," he mumbled out of his toothless jaws, but with no word of thanks. " Come, let us get home, the cold of Iil !i 72 A king's pawn. I'li he nxght ch,ls me. A lie! q„„tha; let two weeks tell two weeks, „„ more. Con.e, girl, come." Back into the crowd they turned, the clown trip, ping and jigging at their heels, and the last I saw of them wa« the sheen of the bauble bells as the lad Shook them above his head. " Come," cried I to Marcel, who stood open-mouthed and starmg '• More than he will be the better of a my belt is too loose by three holes at the least " By this time half Pau was gaping round us, and all hope of concealment at an end. But if the quack or whatsoever he was, had done us an ill turn in thus' giving our shy modesty an undesired prominence, his 8 range ravings had set something to the other side of the account in turning the edge of inquisitive inquiry. What mattered the gossip of Vic court scanda and all, compared to the choice tit-bit that a prophet had foretold Blaise de Bernauld was to di that month, or that week, or that day, or as some would have it, that very hour? Nothing whets a morbid interest, an unassuagable curiosity like the sight of a man who, with the li e as ye whole in him and bubbling with an exuberant vitality, must needs die within a known time. Take the meanest rogue from the kennel, a depraved, evil- Iiving and evil-smelling, contemptible wretch, drink- sodden and the easy prey of all the foulest lower vices, a thing that honest folk and common rascals will alike .,h„n, and let it be given out that he is to ■!il. HOW marcel's hunger lost its edge. 73 3t two weeks come." clown trip- ast I saw of 3 as the lad pen-mouthed better of a and besides, least." and us, and if the quack, turn in thus iiinence, bis ■ other side inquisitive Vic, court -bit that a was to die r, as some lassuagable th the life exuberant aie. Take aved, evil- ch, drink- lest lower on rascals he is to M 5 •tf hang within the hour, and your world of honest folk, ay, even delicate and dainty women, will throng and jostle each other for the bare joy of gaping at the villain. It is, as I think, that he is already an adopted citizen of that great unknown, to which we pay more heed for others than for ourselves, and the glamour of his nearness to the eternal is upon us : for, look you, it is an awesome thing to be within an arm's-length of the eternal. Be that as it may, round they came about us like bees round a honey - pot, and with as infinite a buzzing. A dozen questions were plied in the one instant, while those behind, tiptoeing and straining in their eagerness, sprawled and fought upon one another's shoulders to hear the answer. " Did we know the carl ? " No, nor so much as ever before clapped eyes on him, " Was he mad ? " Rest ask himself. " Where had he come from ? " How did we know ? " Where was he going to ? " Again, how did we know? "Was it to-night I should die, or to-morrow, or next week ? " By God's grace, neither to-night, nor to-morrow, nor next week, unless I died of plain hunger, since it was nine hours since we broke fast. "Why had he cursed me?" He had not cursed me, and I knew not why. " But it was true he had foretold death ? " Then I lost my temper and arswered that some- thing of the sort was said, and I would prove the truth of the forecast on some of them there and then if thev did not stand aside and refrain from thronjiina- il 74 A kino's pawn. ns. A few more curt words quenched the meddle- rs toT-"?^ '"^''''■' ^"^ -'"^' "'*' I >•«' no and so pleasantly round off the spectacle, the crowd thrnned and we forced our way to our lodgings. a npe peach of jnice, and ready to overflow at I would " "° . ^"' ^'' '"^ "8'"' »f 'he story it would mean much custom to "The Black Horse" and oitirr''^;' — ^•''^ '•-''" '^- rrt'all'"'^"'^^''"'^P--P"^P"' a period fee7uf "w"'"' 'T'- " ""' °" •'"^--^ but to wol JelX to t "^"r '''^'"^' ""' '- now" ' "' "'"' "'PP'^''- Q«i<=kly "Lay one here by the window," struck in Marcel and one yonder in the corner " ' What, man ? We both ride on the King's business ;:; rC'^^""''"^" '■''"- --'--^^earrd - it? .^ . " '"" "'""'^' '""' '""^^ ""' talk." speej" ' '"" '*'"^'^^- ^^^ '-«' '--'. -d be The fellow must have thought that the way to 0- tongues lay, as with most men, througT ou stomachs, for in shorter time than I had thoul It nos.«ib1o h» i"H - . thought "■ '^ n„ .«iu us a meal tit for a king. Not a HOW marcel's hunger lost its edge. 75 the meddle- lat I had no 3 delectation 5, the crowd ?ings. of curiosity r^erflow at a the story it fforse," and 'cket, since Jt a period ess but to ik, not for Quickly in Marcel, e window. ' business, lead and ' Wait till ^ill talk." t, and be J way to 'Ugh our thought Not a King of Navarre, be it noted, for Henry, thougli a brave trencherman, was a plain eater ; a Philip of Spain rather, whose wealth of the Indies bought him all that heart could desire save quiet at home and a satisfied ambition abroad. Yet, so far as the table was concerned, what was he the better for all his riches ? He could do no more than eat and be filled, and hope to give God thanks for a good digestion, and the poorest kind may do that. Six courses there were, and had I let him our host would have danced attendance through them all. Hints he gave no heed to. " Art thou married, friend ? " asked I as he hung at my shoulder with his ears a-cock. " Ay, your worship, tliese five years." " Then I have no doubt the good-wife has need of a man's help with so many coming and going." " Trust her to manage ; my place is here with your worships' honours." " Then best empty the place," answered I shortly, "for our worships' honours have things private to discuss. Begone, friend, till we call." Which put an end to his prying for that time. Yet for all its toothsomeness, Marcel but played with that which was set before him. Neither the broiled trout, fresh from the Gave waters, nor the larded reed-birds from the Dax swamps could tempt him, and when he left the third service hashed about upon his platter but almost untasted, I broke out upon him, — " What are you so backward about, man ? Have 76 A king's pawn. we not mc,,,»ed toj-ether a score of times, ^.y. and p.Sged .t with our bare fingers, too, and you never once played bashful ? " " Oh, by your leave," said he with a kind of a groan, " it is not you. Master Blaise, who have come hetwecn me and „,y meat. Not even the Kin. would do that-no, not thougl, wc ate off the on^ fin himself like a man, no mutter who sits at his elbow. But that eldritch carl has put a blight upon me, and though through being as empty as a beggar's purse I could soon drink myself drunk, I could never drink myself merry." "What!" I cried, and in my astonisMnent I thrust the bench a foot back on the sanded Hoor and sat staring. "You? You with your half-do^en pitched fights and score of skirmishes, to grow peakish .ke a maid over a out finger, and all for the mumb- ling a parchment-jawed dotard ! Lord, man, how often have you thrust yourself into risks that were none of yours for pure love of the thing, a man's risks and deadly ?_and now you shiver for a shadow." " Ay, but that was a thing I saw, while this is God knows what of underliand mischief, and there's the difference. If it were a lie the fellow told it would be nought; if it were truth and I knew it for truth well a man's a man: but not to know if it be lie or truth IS what sits so cold on my stomach ! Why it >s hke a ghost, neither flesh nor devil that a man can meet and handle, and so a man quakes." HOW MARCELS HUNGER LOST ITS EDGE. 77 fnes, uy, and d you never I kind of a 3 have come n the Kin" off the one a man must sits at his blight upon s a beggar's could never lis^ment I mded floor, half-dozen 'ow peakish ihe mumb- , man, how that were nan's risks idow." his is God here's the 1 it would for truth, be lie or Why, it nian can 4 1 I " Come, come," said I, dragging back my bench to the table, " Listen, man ; if it be lie, as of course it is, what then ? " " Why, nought as I say — all's well." " Good ; but if it be truth, what then ? " For a m^:Tient Marcol hung in the wind, his fingers at their ola trick of beard-combing, then he answered slowly, — " If it be for Bernauld, all's well still. Don't think I grudge it. Master Blaise." Leaning forward, I stretched my hand across the table and caught him by the wrist. "Who am I, old friend, that you should love me so ? With you it lias ever been liernauld first and Bernauld last to the forgetting of self. But touching this thing, you said a moment since that if it were a thing certain it would be nought, but now God knows what might, come, and so you quaked. So be it ; take your own phrase, ' God knows.' Leave it there, I say, leave it there." " Amen, Master Blaise," he answered, and his great lean hand closed over mine and held it as in a vice. But let no man gibe at Marcel's qualms. When it comes to facing the unknown and uiidelined, the best of us are like children shivering at the dark. ' 78 CHAPTER VII. WE RIDK TO THE TliV3T. ,IT°"m "f t" " "" '"'• "'" "•"■' *'"> - ^ «I"gg-l, n h.s Wood that ho has „„ „,ooc,s. H. is as «ata„d flavourless as unsalted broad, and though ho may be »ou„d-hoarted and wholoson.o, an.l „,e„ „«/ ^o spoak, live by l,i„, ,,t ho gives nouher Te; „ pWe to life nor ever tio.les the palat, of oein^ A. well dwell un.ier the tedious san.eness or a .rev sky as with such a one. Give me rat ,< \ nn/i fi,„ 1 • . ' ™''"'^'. "»' Storm and the s„„shn,e. the dash of rain and the fleekin» white clouds across the blue, nay, oven the ra e" ••« -burstnig of a ten.pest, if the air be but clea Marcel, full by turns of honest anger, a woman's compassion, sturdy hate or unselli.sh tenderno.," s tl.e need of the hour demanded Whatever his over-nighfs gloom may have been HS spirits he next day. as in the early morning ' rned our backs on Pan and rode down' the wi^li I! a.uf,. .„„u] oeuatu iour-aiiil -.Sixty. i T9^ WK HIDE TO THE TRYST. 79 s SO sluggisli !? as flat and iit! may be may, so to er zest nor t'' of being, 5 of a grey , I'll" storm lie rteckins: n the rare l»ut clear ations was L woman's lerness, as lave been, irning we 3 windinf; s sixteen •i I " Lora, Lord," he chuckled, as we rode acro.^s the bridge wliich lies to the south-west of the city, and turned to the right, instead of ^o the left that would h. ve led to Bernauld. " WI v ,uld my lady say to see us giving the honiu ad the go-by, and nding knights orrant where chance may drift ns, like these dons of Spain they tell of in the old romances, and we, both of us, grizzlod as badgers? Though tliere," he added, passing his hand through his stiff bristle of beard, " I am free to confess I have the wrong advantaL'e." Then in his light lit hiess he set himself to trolling out such a ca; is might come from a crow with a quinsy. Lm I soon put ;i stay upon his music. "Since when have I been fool enough to ride I knew not whither? Now that Tau is at our back, and with it is gone all chance of cliopping gossip, I may tell you our whitherwards. We Jtre bound for Spain, friend Marcel." You should have seen his jaw drop. His carol died in a hoarse quaver as if one had suddenly clipped him by the tliroat, and the liglit went from his eyes like the snutting of a candle. Nay, he fairly gasped as a man does at a rough blow below the ribs. " Spain ? " he said in a high drawl, " Spain ? Good Lord, good Lord, it is pure midsummer madness." " It is the King's business," answered I, " or rather it is Navarre's business, and, if you knew tlie ins and MICROCOPY RESOLU'^fON TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 IS ■ 5.6 2.8 3.2 4.0 1.4 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ /APPLIED IIVMGE inc 1653 East Main Street Rochester. New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288- 5989 -Fax 80 A king's pawn. outs of it, sane enough for any one but us. But when tlie King says yea, wlio or what is to say nay ? " " Common-sense," said he gruffly. "If the King said, ' Thrust your Iiand in tlie fire,' would you do it ? '' " Ay, if I could pull Navarre out of the coals, and so would you." "But," lie cried wrathfully, " tliere are fires and fires ; and Navarre is scorched on more sides than one. Why plunge into Spain's brazier?" " Because it is the King's business, man, and tliere's an end of it." " An end of it," I heard him mutter ; " ay, and of as. Now I know why yon necromancer smote me so straight on the breast last night." And, as was his wont when vexed or ill at ease, he checked his horse a half-dozen lengths behind and followed in silence. The path led first through those JurauQon vine- yards whence came that famous wine which old Henry of Albret gave our Henry to drink the very day of his birth, and which tradition says the babe swallowed with such satisfaction as to prove him nn vrai B^arnnais. A rough and sturdy growth it is, and the man was soon to prove that what had been the babe's liking had not abated with the years. Having threaded these, we swung to the left between rolling hillocks, and headed straight for the snow-cap of the Pic d'Ossau, and so for a league followed the rising ground in the centre of the valley. It is a country of slopes and hollows, and with no stream WE RIDE TO THE TKYST. 81 US. But when ay nay ? " "If the King lid you do it ? " the coals, and are fires and ore sides than r?" lan, and there's f; "ay, and of cer smote me And, as was Le checked his d followed in urangon vine- le which old rink the very iays the babe prove him 'dy growth it lat what had ith the years. J left between the snow-cap followed the ley. It is a ;h no' stream to serve as guide. Once south of Lasseube, we crossed the short spur on the right, and so rode into Oloron in easy time for dinner without having once broken our beasts' pace. This time Marcel had no mind to lose his meat. The issue was set fair and square before him, and I have ever found that to look a risk in the face is to rob it of more than one-half its terrors. " 'Tis the place of a good Christian to make the devil's work as hard in the doing as may be," said he, as lie cleared liis plate for the third time. ^' There- fore it behoves a man who is on the right side to keep his muscles hard. If it comes to banging the accursed dons, or being banged by them, I'll give away no points in tlie game." Thenceforward, too, he was cheerful in a sober, grumbling fashion, and if there were occasional re- lapses into a sour pessimism it was only when his almost twenty years of prejudice got the upper hand. Not that it was all pure prejudice. Marcel had his own good and enduring reasons for liating the witch- mother of Diego Saumarez, even as I had, since in striking viciously at me she had wounded him on one occasion, and so deeply that a scar was left which not all the sixteen years which had passed since then had fully healed. It had come about in this way. In her mad hate and wild thirst for vengeance she had hired a worthy rogue — La Hake by name — to do that work which was beyond tlie reach of 82 A king's pawn. s !il her own hand. That hia instructions were to make a sw.ft end of Blaise de Bernauld he admitted b„ I be,„g on the Queen's business at the time, my lady fo me. My whereabouts she refused to reveal, and the callous-hearted scoundrel slew the little lad b fore h mother's eyes that he might compel a revelation. Th was cr:me number one, and it failed in its purpose no ^'" "T \^''^ ^'''" '^' Ki„g_who was then no more than the Prince of Bearn-in an ill-con- s>dered boyish freak, appeared at Bernauld with no more than two or three attendants, and at his heels came La Hake and a score or two of :.scals as ev m:nded as h.mself. See now the villain's quandary. to do . """"■ """^^ ^"<' ''"■ - he lusted to do, and so earned his wages from the Spanish wman, he missed the royal game that had fXn nto ms net. Henry of Navarre, alive, was worth a barony at the least from either France or Spl dead, nothing, except perhaps a long rope ' In the end he agreed that Blaise de Bernauld should go scot free for that time if the Prfn" J Beam were given into his hands, and upon .t bargam I, as some afterwards said, sold my Ki. , that was to be, to save my own skin " " But they who said so lied. What we really did was to substitute Marcel's fifteen-year-old S t Henry, and ,n the dark the fraud passed m„ste but only for a time; and when the Woodv^M' found he had been cheated, the wolf within him dra'e WE RIDE TO THE TRYST. 83 were to make admitted, but time, my lady le had spread 3veal, and the lad before liis lation. That s purpose, ho was tlien i an ill-con - uld with no at his heels icals as evil- 's quandary. s he lusted he Spanish had fallen ^as worth a or Spain ; " Bernauld Prinr- of upon ^t my Kirg really did d son for d muster, dy villain bim drave him, and he slew the lad with as little compunction as he had slain my boy. That was crime number two, and it profited its autiior no more than did the former murder ; for Marcel, the father, ligjitino^ upon him with a father's agony of loss still raw, struck him down in cold biood. There, in few words, is the cause why Marcel held the mother of Diego Saumarez — or was it the wife ? La Hake seemed uncertain, and spake sometimes of one and sometimes of the other — in a dread that was only equalled by his hate. Tliere, too, is the strange bond of ungrudging sacrifice which bound the; King of Navarre to Marcel, the Squire of Bernau-l. From Oloroii to the place of rendezvous ic no more than an hour's trot, and you may be sure the sun was drawing near the crests of the hills before we turned up the road that runs by the left bank of the Gave d'Aspe, and made our way to the throat of the rising valley. "It's a happy thing, and a great comfort to a man," said Marcel with a groan as the gorge nar- rowed, "to have nought to live for in the broad world ; to be, so to speak, the butt-end of a tag that has trussed points in its time, ay, and trussed them busily and well, but lias now not so much as a rag of silken cord left to create a use or even a reason for existence. Well, well, let the tag wear out with the rest, or go to the mire, and be forgotten." " Nought to live for ? " said I. " What of Marie and that great son of yours ? " I 84 A king's pawn. Tut answered l,e. " a man like me who ia farin- here and there oa who know, what risky errands" cues so many times in the imagination „f those he leaves that there must be at least a do.en ghosts of me at Bemauld by this time. As to the lad, he's a good lad, but at eisht-and-twenty tl,c blood in his own ve.„s counts for more than the blood out of another., even tl,ough he call that other 'father' JNo, tis a great comfort." " Well," said r, to hun,our him. « and what of Bernau d ? Since wl>en have I shrunk to so poor a tnng that con.pared with me the nearest ditch has the greater welcome ? I,o I and Bernauld count for nothnig, old friend ? " " Nought to live for at four- or five-and-sixty " answered he with .-. shake of his head ; " when the old dog has lost his teeth and can no longer liold his crip or use h,s nails he is better dead. You would "not make a turnspit out of a wolf-hound, Master Blaise ■> Why, ,t wouW br,.ak the beast's heart. Au,l d'ye thmk that because a man has outlived his day he is lower than a brute ? But, thank the Lord, tJ.e old dog can die, and so, I say again, 'tis a comfort there IS nought to live for." " But," I cried, " why all this croaking ? a week ago and you had it in you to trounce Jacques Gobiu- eau for no more than a cross look, ay, and you could have done .t, too, for all your whining at the dulness ot tooth and claw!" "M. hntr said he, "a man is as old as he feels. WE KIDE TO THE TKYST. 85 > who is farinff risky errands, 1 of those he ozen ghosts of he lad, he's a blood in his blood out of ther 'father.' find vvliat of to so poor a 5st ditch has lid count for e-and-sixty," *vheii the old liold his grip u would not tster Blaise ? And d'ye is day he is )rd, the old mfort there 8" ? a week lues Gobin- l you could the dulness ts he feels, and there are times wlicn a man ages twenty years in as many minutes. Tell me, Master Blaise, you who have hot blood in you for all your cool head, only you know, as a man should, how to keep a grip on your passion ; toll me what was your thought that sorrowful hour it came home to you that the Hush and power of youth had gone from you, and though you knew it not, you were half-way to old age? Nay, you have no need to tell me, for the trutli has bitten me twice and left its mark each time. It is as if a man slipped from spring to autumn in a snap, and I have slipped from autumn into winter. That it had been autumn I knew. The warmth and glow of life had failed from the summer heat, the days were drawing in, and the light of the eye had dimmed; growth was stayed; the vigour of life was checked, and tlie sappy limbs were stiffer and more rigid. Ay, it was autumn, but no more than autumn, until yon carl touched me with his stick and you cried Spain in my ears to give the touch points and pressure. Then the glow went grey, the dimness darkened, the limbs stiffened into stark dead uselessness, and the chill of winter had me in both heart and brain, and I was old — old old." While he spoke we had unconsciously dropped into a walk, leaving the beasts to wander as they would ; nor, when he ended, had I aught to say, so moved was I by the note of hopeless sadness that shook his voice. The silence that belongs to the presence of the dead was upon me, and answer him 86 A king's pawn. I could not, any more than I could comfort him that black day we bore home to Bernauld his brave lad, done to death by La Hake. It may be tnere are those who will jeer and cry out upon Marcel for a morbid old fool, but so could not I. The first con- scious loss of a man's vital power is, after its fashion as sorrowful a thing as, and at times even more so than, the laying away of the body in the grave If the zest of life be gone, the ilesh is, truly, little better than a grievous burden. Therefore I kept silence for a time, but at last stretching out my hand to grasp his, " Thank the' Lord, old friend," I said. "No frost of winter can kill the love of brother and brother," and said no more, for, after all, words are the poorest coin in all the world wherewith one heart can pay another Whatever virtue of vital force had gone from him the power of his grasp was unabated, for his <.Tip crushed my hand until the bones cracked as he answered. "The winter must draw to an eternal sprin.. before that day comes, Master Blaise, thou^rh it is borne m upon me that the winter is far throucrh " "Chut man!" cried I, "think shame to yourself! AH this brooding because of an old fool's maunder- ings ? Why, 'tis nonsense, arrant nonsense ; besides it hit me as closely as you." " No, no, not so ; for it was me he touched But If I may only die as I have lived, for the house that has sheltered me and the man who has loved me i WE RIDE TO rUE TRYST. 87 comfort him mid his brave y be tnere are Marcel for a The first con- ;er its fashion, even more so he grave. If , truly, little but at last, "Thank the f winter can and said no t coin in all nether. )ne from him for his grip icked as he I c«n say no less tlian ' thank God.' What plagues me is that one of these filthy dons may slap a knife into me and no one be a whit the better." Then we shook up our beasts and rode on towards tlie growing gloom of the gorge in silence for, may- be, a long half-league. Then Marcel, pointing ahead and to the right, cried, — " Vender's the place, Master Blaise, for there is the brook coming in from the west that the King spoke of." 3rnal spring though it is through." to yourself! 's niaunder- ise; besides. ached. But e house that 5 loved me. 88 CHAPTEll VIII. :■' JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE. A1.MOST unuotud tlie valley liad closed in upon us and so sternly that twilight was anticipated by a' full hour. To the left the Gave roared throu-di its time-worn bed, a streak of foaming white, with rare slants of black and silent water rolling across the . levels m uneasy stress from the outfall of the upper slope. Beyond it the bank rose rough and impass- able, a sloping desert of loose stone and clifi; possibly the feeding-ground of the goat or mountain sheep but affording no track for man or horse. Tiien,' still higher, came an abrupt rise strewn by boulders and seamed with rock slides, into which crept the advance-guard of stunted pine, larch, and scrub oak whose better - nourished battalions swarmed upon the highest reaches and filled the sheltered ravines On the hither side the road clung to the stream with such abrupt zigzags as the rocky nature of the ground compelled, but, saving at one point, there was the same wild savagery, the same upper growth of timber, the same huge stretch of tongueless silence and melancholy suggestion of desolation. JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE. 89 I ui)oii us, atod by a lirougli its , with rare across the the upper id impuss- ff, possibly aiii sheep, 3. Then, Y boulders crept the scrub oak, led upon I ravines, le stream re of the int, there sr growth 3S silence The exception was wlierc tlie wall of the valley was split by that stream from the west which the King had appointed as the meeting-place. Here the gorge widened, and the detritus from the river had slowly built up a small ])lateau which, for all the hot and breathless drought of summer, was a miracle of greenness and fresh luxuriance. " Thank tlie Lord," cried Marcel, " we can at least breathe liere and nrt risk the sucking in of the rocks atop of us. I would as lief sleep in a prison as in the cleft that lies farther ahead. And see. Master Blaise, yonder is a house, and with life in it, too. We shall rest snugger to-nin;ht than I had thought." Sure enough he was right. .Sheltered by a group of trees on the tongue of land between the two streams was the grey loom of a cottage from the chimney of which a thin trail of blue smoke drifted down the valley. No light showed, but that went for nothing, since a thrifty peasant can eat iiis scant supper on his door-step, and then go to bed in the dark to save oil. " Life, indeed," answered I dubiously, " but per- haps more life than welcome. A man who dwells two leagues from anywhere may have his own reasons for being surly and slammi' ->• the door in the face of strangers. I'll warrant lew angels come to the valley of the Aspe." " Chink two crowns at him and then put them back in your pocket, and you will see him grin though he had his father's bones hid under the hearthstone," 90 A king's pawn. answerutl Marcul " Ti„f « i • SCO M.av.„„ „„d „3 , ,,^^,^^„ ,^,^,^j: ^ve on ^olo 0..3K e .hile we share hi« bed with ' , J Not but ,vh„t the star, are coverlid enough for me i: srini't: r "■;;' r "^- ~ jaekunapes wl , 1 , """" ''"^'-' "■-« -"' lil'-e le Benauld i, T "•\ P^^'^''""^ -« «'at ui. Jieinauld is master wlicreaoover he -op, when there was no room for two words fv,„ tw:at of the bridle and we're there "' " — Tthrs:f'/''^'™''-'''^^p«---'-ed owaids the spksh upon the shadows which w,, XVnrtrro^:s::rr-''^ somewhat smaller In tl^ / . ""'•' ^'^''^ was the door and at J b 7 "' "" '"" "' ^™" deeply sett tb .!, ""'"'' "'"■ " """"^ window boaSLir r'^trrLr i r '^"^^ --« in fi , ''""' ^ small circular hole beirm- out •;;»<• to admit light. The door was fa sU Where there is fire there is life thoucb ti, 7 ;: -"-'• -^<' «-l With all a solS'crnlS tor the peasant not of his owr . • ^'''^'^^P^ -I ins own suigneurie; and M yave on iiig. Or if fetcli him, ■slcop in a 'i the fluus. igJi for me, lir sweeter hese court y see that r ho goes, at a time Come, a ve turned diich was eyer witli ith walls is to say, it" twenty )m a city nes were e of wall window bter were eing cut St shut, the dogs ontempt e; and I JEAN MINET OK GUIENNE. 01 loaning from lii'- saddle he liammered louiMy, " Halloa, within there ! Ay ! T said there was life. Do you hear the fellow mumble i Open, friend, open, and for your own sake. A churl's welcome brings a churl's payment," and again lie struck the door smartly. For all result he might as well have struck the rocks that were so sheer and black above us, for no one answered, though the babble and murnnir of a voice could be heard wilhin. Then Marcel grew wrathful. In his own country Blaise de iiernaidd was no small power, and Ijecause of it Bernauld's squire held a rcliected authority which few cared to question twice. That we were beyond our own borders was true, but use and wont are hard thinus to shake off, therefore Marcel waxed angry. "Look you, friend," and he shook the door gently as he spoke, " you are in a fair way to earn yourself a broken pate. Open for your health's sake, if not for civility." He had dismounted and now stood with his bridle in one hand, and his other list leaning heavily on the door upon which, he punctuated his speech. But as there was no sound of motion from within, and the mumbling still went on, he turned away in hot anger and threw me the reins. "Hold these, Master Blaise," he cried; "if they will not hearken to soft words maybe hard stones will serve the turn ; " and down he went groping his way to the river, whence lie presently returned \v!th a great boulder, as big as a steel bonnet, in his fists. 92 ih A king's I'AWlN. Standing two paces back he poispd thn i «>at the whole house shool ulr tie u' ","""'' ^2 .00.. „ah3too. the .hotirL^:, :: : : babble rose into a grumbling roar. " Plague take it," growled ho • " a-'a „ ^-x^ , ^J^an I reckoned " '^ ^'' ' ^^ » ^ stiffer business B..e, a„r:s r:.r hjinr 'cr -hole house 'dor' ' •'''■^"'' '''' ^'^ '^"^ '^- we"held"l''^, '"" ''""'" ^"'^ I' f- the chatter heaid vexed me, and, whereas I had at fir<,f no great wish to billet myself i„ wh.f ,. hnf- K^ ^"j''5bu in wiiat could not »5ut be poor quarters, T was now ^nf • , coTm-,pl ov ^ ' I was now determined to compel an entrance, Ion gr^ ^al gr6. There would be a swift end to quiet and nil A ! ^ J^earn if everv Tn! '''''^ "^ "'^^^ ^^ ir cveiy Jack-peasaat could kopn o i j in act to throw with oil . *^ ^ ^^«' stopped me. "'^ ^'^^"^th when he " Tst, tst, tst," said he between his teeth • " l,-cf Master Blaise, listen ! " ' ^''^^"' ■ JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE. 93 Jnige stone and pressed ength — and I his age — ' where he it seemed w, but the within the 31' business it, Master Maybe a Hulloa, ding the 3 chatter at first 'luld not lined to e would order in closed beasts Marcel ?ht leg len he listen. From above came tlie swish, swish of legs pushing their way through the long grass, and a moving shadow showed against the shadows at rest. " There is but one, Master Blaise. Shall we treat him as friend or foe ? " " As friend, man, as friend," answered I ; " thank the Lord, we are not in Spain as yet." " As friend be it," returned Marcel, " thougli, for that matter, there are some even in Navarre I would as lief keep at arm's-length." Then lie raised his voice in such a shout as must have scared the wits of the new-comer, for he checked himself with a start and made as if to bolt for the mountains. " Come, man, come ; and if you have any love for this door here come quickly, for our pat- ce is outworn and the panels are like to follow the patience. Nay, fool, we wish you no ill. Speak to him. Master Blaise, lest he take to his heels." " Have no fear, friend," cried I. " We are travel- lers who seek a night's lodging and can pay our way. A roof overhead is all we need, food W(! have of our own. Have no fear, I say." But Marcel's hoarse roar liad shaken him, and though he approached slowly like a timorsome cat, he was still crossing himself as he came into clear eyeshot. " Saints ! gentles," stammered he, peering at us in the gloom, " I had no thought there was a living soul within a league of me saving the poor devil inside there, and your nobility's voice sent my heart into my throat." 94 A king's pawn. "Then swallow it down again, friend," replied Marce sharpy, "and dup the door, for we have seen the outside of it long enough." That was Mareel all o'ver. For hard on twenty years he ad schooled and donnneered, teachin! mj amongst others, that the first necessity of con.2J: to know how to obey; and now at times, when we were alone or dealing with one or tw of tL he still played the master. This, knowing the true honest heart and love of the man, never 'Ihed me but lest o„r friend of the solitudes should fall nto a misapprehension I struck in : ■. Where was that ton ue of yours bred, my man ? Not here in Navarre . " the p W'""^"'- ' ^^ '^^ '"- -<• " -n of froL'°the Trf """"*• ""■' """'"" ' "'^'^ »' blood from the Knghsh occupation. But what a man of the pains is doing up here in the hills can wa t fo ^hetelling. See thou to the tethering of the J:, ^e^'JZ 1"" "" '""^ ""^ "P""' ""' «- interior was as black as a midnight cavern, or rather a blot of shadows, as now and then a smouldering embe ^m the hearth broke into a rare flicker and^diedt »rey ash. But our host of the night, blowing the gr^y asKle. lit a rush-lamp with a wis^ o'f straw t^r into the red heat of the fire and sent the shadows re.ble flame couia not drive tJiem. f I •V^, JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE. 95 3nd," replied 'e have seen 1 on twenty iieaching me, command is es, when we wo of the or him, and Jg the true chafed me, fall into a that tongue 'arre ? " a man of sh of blood a man of Q wait for the horses, le interior ter a blot ng ember i died to wing the iw thrust shadows that the "Enter, seigneur, enter," said he, coming forward with his lamp held \ >h above his head ; " it is a poor place at the beat, . d to-night there is that within it " " Which will serve my turn well enough," I broke in. " Let there be no excuses, friend." "Ay," answered he with a sudden shake in his voice, " you have hit the nail on the head, though by misadventure. What is here will serve the turn of king or serf alike, since it is death and no less, if I read the signs aright. See yonder." Following his gesture, I turned to a corner of the hut where there was spread a thick layer of dried bracken and beaten straw, over which a tattered cover- ing had been cast. On this lay a man fully dressed in serviceable homespun, and who, though he took no note of us at all, never ceased his uneasy toss- ings. From side to side he flung himself unrestingly, nor ever ceased moaning, mumbling, or calling out in his delirium. " 'Tis the third day, seigneur, and pray God it's the last, if for nought else but that a man who toils by day may sleep o' nights." " Who is he ? Your father ? brother ? " for in the dim light his age was uncertain. " A black stranger, seigneur, one would say a wastrel of the highways, if it were not that his clothes are good, and there was that in his pockets which will pay his keep. I found him on the road three days back, his horse gone the Lord knows where, and since 96 A king's pawn. I " '! '7 ^P"'-^" "° "-1 »f » Christian tongue, but shou s and groans and cutters so that not even twelve leaned f T "" ' "'^" ^'''^P- «<' -^ '- leaned forward, peering at the sick man as he had J m thinking he's far through." " ^"'' "''lat says the surgeon » " « OOP d beside him and laughing i„ derision; "where o„ld™ehasr«ndas„rgeon. - Surgeon.' ,uoth ue. Where's his fee ? ' quotli I " "His fee, man ? You have cleaned the poor wretch's pockets and yet grudge a fee for';; "By your leave, seigneur, if the fee went to poor'fTli """r""'' '"""^ "'^ ^<'■-.•- poo, Jolk live or die as we can, and there's an end " Stand aside and let me see to him " But before I could go down upon my knees Marcel was between me and the head of the bed for'tfr-"'""!".'""'"'''^' "^ ''''' '" '"•" '^t'-r, foi^t^hat IS more htting. Beside., it may be a catching " Blaise ! " quoth the sick man, rolling „p his di,„ nseeing eyes at us "Blaise, Ay, Bfaise' de B As my name came patly from so unexpected a P!»™. Marcel snatched the light from the 'J^.l JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE. 97 n tongue, but t even twelve jut," and he n as he had is patience. at me as I on; "where ^geon,' quoth i the poor ee for his e went to *^o, no ; we e's an end ees Marcel im rather, a catchintr P his flim e de Ber- ncoherent fpected a peasant's hand and thrust it down to within three inches of the other's face, and we both stood staring. " No man that I know," muttered Marcel, stooping his lowest to see the better. " Nor, by the looks of him, one that I want to know, for that matter. As evil-featured a rogue as a man would meet from here to Toledo." Marcel was right as to his looks at the moment. A five or six days' growth of black bristle covered him from nostrils to chin-point and crept in a stiff- thicket up to his ears. Great bushy brows hung pent over lack-lustre eyes. The lips had gone .^hin and livid, and the once dark skin was like a patch of unwholesome yellow parchment in its setting of black hair. The mouth was stretched and gaping, and a swollen tongue shot quivering out between an ugly set of yellow fangs. An evil-featured rogue, and yet, as he lay there tossing and panting in his thirst, a very pitiable and miserable wretch. " Leave him to me," said Marcel again. " The moon is up, and you had best sup outside. Hark to his ravings ! Get outside, Master Blaise, I say. The more air he has the better." " Blaise ! Ay, ay, Blaise de Bernauld," muttered the fellow a second time. And again, in his per- plexity. Marcel pushed the lamp under his nose and stared his hardest. " If he talks sense call me," said I, for I saw the squire had reason on his side, " This prattle of Blaise de Bernauld has something behind it. Have you a G 98 A king's pawn. more serviceable lamp, friend ? This one is as frail in hfe as your guest yonder. A puff would blow either into the dark." Out from a corner the peasant fetched a horn lan- tern, and with it set b.twoen us we seated ourselves beneath the trees and fell to our supper, and to judge iL hTu" '' '^"' '-' ''"' •'"^'^ P'^y he made with his teeth. It was not often that a meal of cold capon and wheaten bread came his way "And now friend," said I, as, our hunger blunted, we picked the bones with some show of daintiness how comes a man of Guienne so far from his birth-' place ? Such love for Navarre is a thing uncommon m a -frenchman." As I spoke his eyes lit up for a moment fiercely, then the flash died out and left his face stolid as a turn^, but while they were still abla.e he snapped " Cannot a man hate as well as love ? " " Hate ? " said I—" hate France ? " "Bah ! seigneur, what is France to a serf? A fair cause for foul robbeiy, a name, no more, 'see" and again his face lit up, and his very finger-tip's became instinct with Jescription as he crooked them before my face, " here is a grindstone : the lower • that .3 France. Here is another: the upper; that Is the overlord-no offence, seigneur, I speak of Guienne The one below hes passive, the one above whirls thus and hus and thus, and between the two the handfu 01 Wholp.QQTTlP rrvo,V 4.U_x T , "UlUl ■ 6....X .hu. iies DeLween goes to dust and JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE. 99 3ne is as frail ' would blow I a horn Ian- ted ourselves and to judge lay he made Ileal of cold ger blunted, f daintiness, a his birth- f uncommon mt fiercely, stolid as a tie snapped serf ? A ore. See," finger-tips oked them »wer; that hat is the Guienne. 'hirls thus e handful dust and is gobbled up, though the bulk goes not to France. Hate France, seigneur ? No ; a man who hates well has no room in his heart for more than one hate. Take away France and who remains ? The overlord. Voila ! " " But," said I, " all that is too much hate for a fistful of taxes, or even two of them. Besides, if all your kind pay alike, how is it that you have shifted while the rest remain ? " This time the glare in his eyes was the red hunger of the wolf, and as he drew back his lips in a snarl he had more in him of the brute than the man. For a moment he sat silent, eyeing me, his grimy toilworn fingers stroking his mouth and chin in the pangs of indecision. Then he said slowly — " The seigneur, perchance, loves Guienne ? " " The seigneur," answered I, sharply, " is Bearnois, and hates Guienne." "Then it may be that Eigault de I'Annaise, the Lord of Gravaine, is a friend of the seigneur's ? " "Neither Eigault de I'Annaise, nor any other Frenchman," returned I; "and as for the man him- self, I never so much as heard of him." " Then — then, it may be that the seigneur is a great lord, and I have ever found that wolf stood by wolf for all that they were not of the one breed." "As to that," said I, "I hold that master and ser- vant are as one before God, and that the serf can have as sorrowful a heart as the lord." " Ay ? " m^ l;ie drew a long breath, — " that was not 100 A king's pawn. Risault do rA„nai«o's cree.i Tl.ank the saints, he has learned to know better, "Then if the man has amended- " "Amended? Who said amended ? I said he had learned better, and the two differ." " But what has this to do with fleeing Guienne » Surely the fat plains, for all the grind of the taves' are better than the hungry hills ? " "When life is the last thing a man has left seigneur, and even that has grown bitter, he is per- haps, a fool to cleave to it, but l,o does. Better starve n, Navarre than hang in Guienne" hand!™' '''''"''"''"" ^'^"'"^^'''™''™ y°- "No more than a man should have," he answered sullenly. "Though as for hanging, there are a- score of tlungs for whieh a man n,ay hang in Guienne, and yet have white hands. If yo„ smuggle salt, you hang; ,f you steal a noble's deer, you hang; if yon curse a priest, you bang-when the abbot catehes you. Oh, It IS simplicity itself, seigneur, and gives justice a free hand. Were I lord, and Eiganlt de Anna.se serf. I could wish no better law. As to the blood on my hands, since you have some con- science for the poor, listen and judge. Yet, whether you b ame or no, matters little; I would do the same again. It was a mean, ignoble face that stared at me across the dim light. A foxy, shifty face, with nar- row, cunning eyes that shot a furtive glance, and ™'-l,..-,.U.miJHI-- JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE. 101 e saints, lie said he had : Guienne ? the taxes, 1 has left, he is, per- !s. Better d on your answered re a- score enne, and salt, you ?; if you t catches tnd gives gault de As to me con- whether ihe same at me ith nar- ce, and then looked down in a lyin.iv forced humility. I had seen the same thing in a lioiind wliose spirit cruelty had broken, and tliat crouclieil and wagged its tail when, but for the wliip, it would have bitten. The forehead and round the eyes were seamed and puckered by the premature age which comes of grinding poverty and incessant labour. The mouth was big and vicious under its ragged mat of bair, and from chin point to scalp were the deeply-scored lines of vice and debauchery. Yet, as he spoke, his look steadied, the brute within him went under, the man came to the top, and a kind of greatness' that compelled a grudging admiration dawned across the face. " There were three of us, seigucur,~Marie the wife, Marie the cliild, and I, Jean Minet ; and, in our poor way, we were happy~as happy, that is, as a man can be who has a knife everlastingly at his throat, and feels the prick of it. The plains are less fat than you think and full crop, or lean crop, or no crop at all, the priest's tithes and dues, the lord's taxes and exactions, the King's this, that, and the other, must be paid. So we who worked went hungry, that those who never stirred finger, but yet cursed us for our laziness, might go full fed. Yet, in our way, we were happy, for the old lord Eainiond de I'Annaise had a man's heart in him, and held us at least to have equal rights with his hounds. "But old Eaimond died, and all that ended; for Eigault, the new lord, had court debts to pay, and a court schooling to teach him how to do it. Thencefor- 102 A king's pawn. ward we hvod wor.,e tl„„, the ,lo,.,t„r they luul a right to aoean kennel, a„ arn.fnl of »traw, au.l enough coarse food to keep the life in then,. A hard nnu, and a v.e,o„s was Kigault de I'Annaise, and night an,l day pmy God, wUh all n.y heart, he reaps what he sowed It we saw hin, a league oft; we scnrried to cover like scared rabbits lest, in the light gaiety of his heart he au h,s wol hounds on us for .sport. Peasants we plenfful-the Lord knows they were over-plentiful- and sport a lord n.ust have. 80. when a bitter winter t llowed a bhghted harvest, and Marie the wife .lied of sheer slow hunger, spun out through starving weeks. -md,_0 God! do Thou eternally forget Thy n,ercy to the jeenng wretches who harried us bare us a licked rencher or all o.r cries .- Do Thou ren.e.her tin Th? ° r;/ ""''-'" '""^ '"> '«''« '«ft t« weep. Ihat she should die was good. •■ Marie the child was a thing of wires, while I. as you .see. am tough as an oak stave, and so we won through, feeding on roots and haws and oflal of the dc^s leavng „„til the gras,, came. Young folks are th g befell her. At the edge of the wood Eigault and Ins huntsmen came full tilt upon her, and she. being tdl httle more than child for all her inches, stopped to peep at the brave sight, when she should have fled as from worse than the plague. 'HuUoa!' cried he rBimng back, and staring at her. • Whose doe is this ^ What is thy name, chiid ? and she, shaking and red- JEAN MINET OF GUIENNE, 103 liHtl a right Jugh coarse nan and a t and (lay b he sowed, cover like i heart, he iunts were lentifiil— . ter winter wife died ing weeks, liy mercy s a licked nber this ' to weep. hile I, as we won d of the folks are 1 another L an evil jault and le, being stopped lave fled ried he, is this ? md red- dening under his free look, told him she was Marie, daughter of .^aan Minet, one of his lordship's villeins. ' So,' said he, riding up to her, and thrusting his hand under her chin that he might see her better; 'and where has Jean Minet hidden thee all this time ? By St Denis ! he deserves to hang for defrauding his lord, but for sake of thy pretty face, child, I spare him. Bid him send thee to the castle to-night, ma belle; or, stay, to-night I sup abroad. To-morrow will do, but without fail. The seigneur hath his rights, thou knowest— eh? and mayhap the strong box hath a dowry somewhere within it. Lest tiie messaon , """• ''"'' ' '■"""'. hi'^'ise 1,0 is just, he cauuot kf ,j.U.<^.„. auU ,„„,„.a n.e-., .M.e MaHe «too<, „, iWard aI,„ost iuto n.y face, Jean Minct thrust a to-morrow.' said Hugues, a..d left us th:2';::ri^rj;:r--,---o„,, ■ tl'en the hand, and so upwa,: O^rT, r^' patient n.a„, but he holds his g ,> -^ wSlf 'V' theli,nbsinti„,e. JMter first ^uJ^uSl" and he b.ds n>e say the place is watched'" ' the t ps of h.s three fingers. Then suddenly he looked llv '''. J:"='\"'"'-' '^-n that of the death's head who lay wuhm door,,, and his teeth chattering. S.he was a good girl," he stammered, " a .^ood ..W^ and I kdled her that night as she slept tCI U ' i;L :!-:;-" "^ -•' ~ -- , iiu was still. Oh! never start- wouht vr.,. oh Jrd 'ni, :'™' °°"''''^'' ''"' theother- ■ ^'"'' '""' •' ""' the other, not the other. Later, I ■'KAN MINKT OK (iUIENNE. 105 K'illfMl him, too— killed him, ;,,s I w,,iil,l a vat T|,ut is why, Hci-iicur, I am no longer a man of (}.».-. ano." The Hush tl It had risen uf tho last U. his face died out, and a^Miu there came i)aek the furtive, uneasy, shifting,' look ; hut theiieef.n ward, so lon<,' a8 T live, l' Hhall h..hl nr, man i-n..hh, until I h.'.ve so proved him, Wliat a play of passions was his ! What a letting loose of hell ! Sorrow, wrath, dread, hatred, vengeance! nnir- tler flc.l in and out of his eyes like the figures of a '•uisciue. At the last, his tale ended so (piickly and in such a sombre concentration of desi)air, that, seasoned as I was to the desperate griefs and bitter losses of life, I could but sit and gape. "Killed her?" I gasped at last,— "killed her? Your own child ? " "Ay, seigneur, why not?" he answered dully, for his passions had fallen into grey ashes. " Better' the body than the soul. You did not know Ifjuault de I'Annaise!" Then he turned upon me fiercely. " Maybe you would i)ity him too. the brute beast ! Maybe you would say that rights are rights, and the powers that be are ordained of the Lord?" "God forbid!" said I—" God forbid! of the devil rather. For him I have no pity, and as he sowed so let him reap." What more would have passed I know not. but at that moment Marcel joined us, and, with not so much as a glance at me, fell-to on his supper in silence. II I ii 106 CHAPTER IX. THE HAND OF TEKESA SAUMAKEZ, " Well ? ■' asked I, with some show of a reasonable vexation, as Marcel went on munching stolidly with- out a word. ■• What of the patient ? " " Dead," answered he curtly, '• and therefore th»re IS one rogue less in the world." " Dead ? " echoed I, awed is most men arc in such a presence, though it be but for a moment-" dead and so swiftly?" ' "Did I kill him?" retorted Marcel with gruff sharpness. "You yourself heard monsieur of the three (ingers say he was far throu-vh " ^^J What ailed him that he went L quietly at the "The sun ailed him to begin with, and a horse hoof or a God-be-praiscd Navarre road ailed him to end with, but which I know not. The skull is cracked under the scalp." "Dead! Ay, ay, dead! God rest hh„, poor wreteh. and comfort the hearts that will be sore for this nirrlif'o 1^„„ .,-'--». ^^ -„_..„., ^^^^ rtiiurever tiiey may be.'" THE HAND OF TEllESA SAUMAREZ. 107 easonable dly with- )re t;Iiere ! in such -" dead, th gruff • of the Y at the a horse him to ikull is n, poor t)e sore Whereupon Marcel broke into a hoarse laugh, and catching up his can of wine, cried — " Here's a toast. May more of his kind go the same way, and speedily!" and again he laughed, but with so bitter a jollity that I forbore to chide him for his unseemliness. "And what of his wild talk of Blaise de Ber- nauld?" asked I curiously; "did he speak out?" "Ay, he spoke," answered Marcel briefly; "but, by your leave, you know the proverb of the full man and the fasting, and it is a plaguy long time since I dined." Yet, for all his show of appetite, it was clear there was more ostentation and pretence about his eating than honest hunger. He mangled his meat and left the bones unpicked; and as for the hunch of bread he ripped from the loaf, it went for the most part in crumbs, and down the outside of his jerkin rather than his throat. Jean Minet had dropped his elbows on his knees and his chin on his palms, and, as we spoke, sat staring at the dull gleam of the light. To my mind he neither heard nor saw us, but was back once more in Guienne and living afresh the sorrows, the losses, and the hatred of his past. But presently Marcel roused him. His pretence at supper had come to an end, and he could no longer fritter away the minutes playing a part. "Hulloa! Waken up, friend," he said sharply, and pushing the other with his foot as he spoke. 108 A Kma's PAWN. ■I t I II " Best see to your guest within there. Though if you take my advice, you will have him promrtly »t by the heels and so sleep the sounder. a' honest mans house is better without such cattle dead or ahve. As for us. God's roof-tree will dj tor my master and mo to-night" started at he authontative voice and looked about hm rn a da.ed fashion. Then ho rose clumsily to Jus toet, and mutterinr " i„ • mrdnn = • """""'~ Ay, ay, seigneur, your pardon, se gneur, your pardon," like a man half a loep, and n.ade for the open door. Midway i„ he paused and turned, •■There was no priest," he said, looking vacantly at Marcel. " But there ; to die or to live, whether ine.st= said Marcel between his teeth. "Not r Li d T'^ "r '"" '" '"'"' <^""" '-™ as. tow 1 •'■ """' '"' ""' «'"-■'- -d only told truth 111 maunderings." " I'iague take your mysteries," cried I ; •■ cannot you speak out, man." "How do I know," answered he cautionsly and eaking under his lu.eath, ..but the fellow. Mi: ■ fT 1 " M " "' '"'"'" "'"' "'•^' d-' -gue ? " reasJ;tt . v '"" ''"""'"' ™^ "- '"^ -n reasous for being solitary. I vouch for Minet." Guienne?" he cried, rising and coining over to where I sat "That e..plains it!" " ^y^'^'^io^ again ! E.xpl,,;,,^ ^j.^j^ ^^^ , „ THE HAND OF TERESA SAUMAREZ. 109 " Why the poor wretch's wanderings were so imich gibberisli to his three-fingered host." " Ay ? and why ? " " Because it's not in reason that a man of Guienne would understand Spanish Basque." "So he was from the south, was he? Now we know where he got his yellow skin. But what of his chatter of Blaise de Bernauld." "Listen, Master Blaise," and Marcel sat himself down beside me under the sliadow of the great trees. " When you two were gone out I went down on ray knees and scanned him as a mother might her babe, for what right had a stranger to prattle of Blaise de Bernauld in that fashion ? but never a hair of him did I know. Then I set the light on a stove that was handy and began to feel him. His ribs and limbs were sound, but the first touch of the head was enough. Back of the ear, just where the hair thickened, was a pulp I might have thrust in with my thumb, though for all the break in the bone the skin was whole, and but for the uncanny softness of it his life was little the worse. Then I pushed up his lids, and the twist of his eyes told me the sun had hit him hard, and that between the stroke from above and the smash from below his time was so many hours and no more. My own thought is that a splinter of the bone turned inwards, and saving that a surgeon scooped out the pulp and fixed a silver plate across the hole, his wits would never have been sound 110 A king's pawn. I! S again. After that I gave him a drink, and layina his head back on the riding-coat that propped him up, sat and watched him awhile. But his breath came in heavy slow puffs, and the thought that the end was nearer than I at first supposed spurred me on. Blaise de Bernauld ! ' said I. On the moment he stopped rooting and fidgeting in the straw, and screwed his blind eyes up at me. Blaise de Bernauld,' said he, like an echo, and swore in Spanish Basque. " That gave me a thought. Dropping you. Master Blaise, I groped for the other end of the coil and caught it first time. " ' Madame Saumarez ! ' " You should have seen him jump. The word was like a half-inch dagger prick. 'Ay, ay,' he cried 'Senora Saumarez, the devil of a woman, the devil of a woman,' and then he fell to moaning and comb- ing at the straw with his fingers. " That bolt had gone home, so I notched another ' Five hundred crowns— eh ? Five hundred crowns ? ' Round he heaved himself in the bed and flung his arms up aimlessly. ' No, no, no,' he mumbled, rollincr his head from side to side ; ' not five hundred, three hundred only, no more than three. 'Tis too little for a man's life.' " Now I had both ends of the coil and knew two things— that Diego Saumarez's accursed witch of a mother was alive, .and that her hate was alive too THE HAND OF TERESA SATJMAREZ. Ill But the rogue was weaker, and was plucking with his finger-tips at the rumpled covering flung across the straw in a way a man understands, though he may have seen it no more than once. There was little time to lose if I would assure assurance. '"Madame Saumarez gave you three hundred crowns to murder Blaise de Bernauld ? ' Paid I, very slowly and with my lips at his ear; and again he rounded on me even with the rattle in his throat. " ' No, no,' he panted, ' half only, and half when it was done.' Then he burst out with broken curses, mixed with disjointed recollections, that would have blackened a dozen souls, and moaning prayers; and God, the devil, and the saints, were invoked in' turn till his breath failed, and for ten minutes he lay gasping, with growing intervals between the gasps. Then of a sudden he stretched himself with a sigh, aiKl the end came." " Thank the Lord he died," went on Marcel, " for had the life taken fresh root in him I would have stamped it out again, witless and all as he was. It was either him or you. Master Blaise." I will not deny that Marcel's tale troubled me, but as his hand gripped my knee in the darkness, and I felt his fingers tremble, I cast forebodings from me with an effort. When a man has a fit of the quakes there is no better medicine than to have to hearten- up one who is in a still more evil case. " Bah ! " cried I, with a sounding slap on his shaking hand ; " Spain is as broad as France, and we will but 112 A king's pawn. touch Its fringe. What though the witch be alive and venomous ? It is a thousand to one if we so much as go within ten leagues of her. Thou and I have faced worse odds many a time than such a chance as that. And, after all, what is the pother about ? A woman ! " " It is not the woman I fear," answered lie moodily, " but fatality that works througli her. The predes- tination of it ! " "But, man," said I sharply— for fatalism either ^akes or breaks a man, and here it was like to be uiie latter—" Calvin never preached the doctrine to make us shiver, but to give us comfort, since by it we are in God's hands." "Ay," replied Marcel, "there you have it, and that's a thing men are prone to talk of but have no wish to hasten. I never saw the priest yet, whether he followed liome or Luther, who so longed to meet God Almighty that he hunted death hot-foot. As to the thousand -to -one chance. Master Blaise, what do you make of yon fellow meeting us plump on the road ? Answer me that ! " "I make this," said I ; " the pass which gapes so black and narrow behind us there is a short cut, and therefore a wise one for him and for us. Why, it's a straight line, though he came from Seville 'itself Your mind is full of shadows." " Have it so, but it's a crooked path for so straight a road," he answered dourly ; " and take this w^th It, that there's no shadow without a substance, and THE HAND OF TERESA SAUMAREZ. 113 where you find the shadow the substance is not far behind." It was on the tip of my tongue to bid him ride home to Bernauld with the first of the light, since in a party of four there was no room for one to be a poltroon, wlien the reappearance of Jean Minet in the hut doorway checked me. " The bed is vacant now, seigneur," said he, hold- ing out the rushlight in front of him, and speaking as coolly as if he were the serving wench of "The Three Stars" at Vic. Mf I was long in making ready, it is because the three days' rooting had worn it out of shape." " What ? " I cried. " Could you not let the poor soul lie till the morning ? " " By your leave, seigneur, he will rest as quietly under the settle as in the bed. Why waste good straw on bones that can't feel when there are bones that can which want it ? " " Then lay your own bones there, friend," answered I. " The earth for bed and our saddles for pillows will serve our turn for to-night." "Every man to his taste," said he with a grin; "but I find him better company than he was any time these three days past. Best think twice, seign- eur, and try the straw. There's nought catching in a broken head. Though, for that matter, I have known one make many before now ! No ? Well, the saints give you good rest, seigneurs both. If you need aught call me, but call loud, for there are H I lU A king's pawn. three nights' sleep owing to me, and by the grit in my eyes I am going to have my dues," If nature paid Jean Minet his debt it was not at our expense. In spite of the hard ground, Spain, and Marcel's dolefulness, I never slept sweeter under a brocaded canopy than I did that night beneath the shadow of the great trees. Nor do I think it any shame that the sun was in my eyes between a cleft in the hills on the farther side of the gorge before I awoke. Where needs must I can waken with any man, and I thank God that at sleepii.g T can also hold my own with any man. Indeed, when a man is in camp or on the march, and has his fourteen, or maybe more, hours of duty packed into the twenty- four, I hold that the faculty of sound sleep i^. as needful and as worthy as that of wakefulness. One advantage there is in such a bed as was mine. Once awake, there is small pleasure in play- ing lazy-bones. Mother earth's knees are kindly enough to him who, out of honest weariness, seeks sleep, but they are over-hard for dandling. In three blinks I was broad awake and staring about me. Both Marcel and Jean Minet were already afoot and at their tasks, the one for the living, the other for the dead — for the squire was busy warming a measure of wine as a corrective of the night dews, while the Guiennese was hard at work with mattock and shovel, and was already sunk to his knees in the soft earth. An easy labour was his, and by the time the wine had caught the proper dcuree heat — that THE HAND OF TERESA SAUMAREZ. 115 is to say, warm enough to bring the tears to the eyes without scalding the throat — lie was climbing out of the pit. With the glare of the sun in his shifty face and the smudges of black clay on hands and ragged clothing, T looked in vain for the finer instinct and power of passion that had been so mightily stirred as we sat on either ^hh of the horn lantern. They were gone, until the depths within him of suspicion and self-effacement were again broken up, and in their place was a furtive and sordid servility. " All's ready, seigneur," said he, rubbing the mould slowly from his hands as he spoke ; " and if the other seigneur would give me a hand, we can tuck him out of sight at once and have done witli him." " With a good will, though with a better will still had there been six of his kind instead of one," answered Marcel; "but as I was blowing the fire, Master Blaise, the thought came to me that there might have been news of her we wot of in the fellow's pockets. I'll warrant they are empty enough now ! " "Right," cried I. "Hark you, friend, what spoils were there ? Disgorffe." "There was nought, seigneur, there wa nought," answered Jean Minet hastily and clapping a tell-tale hand to his side. " At least, nought but a beggarly raffle of odds and ends not worth your lordship's turning over." " What ? " said Marcel, laying a hard lean hand M IIG A king's pawn. on the other's shoulder. " Nought ? Neither weapons nor papers ? Jostle up thy memory, man, and see thou assert not overmuch. Too large a lie is as dangerous at times as too much truth." Jean Minet looked at us cunningly, but in silence, as if reckoning up the chances. " There was a crown, or maybe two, but no more than my due for the three days' nursing and the loss of sleep o' nights, (lentles like you would not rob the poor," he whined at last. " Faith of Bernauld ! are we thieves ? " cried Marcel, shaking him wrathfully. "Empty thy pockets as thou emptied his. You may keep your crowns, and if there be money's worth in what we find we will buy it." But the Guiennese still hung in the wind. ",You would not cozen me ? " said he, fawning on Marcel. "Cozen you?" cried he back contemptuously. "Why, man, we are two and you are >ne. That, and the limb of the tree yonder. Would be cozenage enough if we had a mind to it. Must we search ? " " No, no," he replied in haste. " I will trust your honour, seigneurs." " Ay," said Marcel grimly. " Just as much trust as Navarre shows France, and no more. The trust of what can't be cured. We understand. Down on your knees, friend, and spread out the loot." If he had carried all his worldly possessions upon him — as I made no doubt he did — then truly the battered rogue who lay dead behind the jamb of the THE HAND OF TEKKSA SAUAIAUEZ. 1 ^ door had found tlie profession of thief and cut- throat a poor paying one. Out of his poverty an honest artisan had laid by as mucli in a year as he had earned in fifteen. The inventory is soon told. " Item," said Marcel as Jean Minet emptied his pockets with very little haste but a -jreat show of alacrity, and laid out his treasures in order, " nine crowns, two francs, and four deniers. Now, Master Blaise, wnere is the rest of the blood -money gone? Dice, liquor, and hona rohas, I suppose ! Truly what the devil gives with the right hand he hlches with the left, and perhaps a little more with it. Item, one leaden saint indifferently l)attered. James of Campostello for a wager, iind mucli good he did to him! Item, one roll of stout cord. 'Twas to keep him humble, I take it, and remind him of the death he ought to die if he but got his dues. Item, one square of dog-eared paper. Set that aside, Master Blaise — we will see to it presently. Do you note that, for all its dirt of grease and thumb-marks, it is not frayed at the edges, therefore it has not been many days in its mixed company. Item, three silver buttons which might serve as bullets at a pinch, and item, to go with the same, one short dag with a mouth as wide as a priest's bell, and one leather bag of black powder, — a proper combination, on my faith, to bring down that wizard c^' Bernauld we two wot of. Silver will kill where lead fails. Well, an honest Navarre highway has put an end to that caper. II « 11 PI ! f f! 118 A king's pawn. Item, ono bone charm against the evil eye. There is some sense in that, and, by your leave, we will set it aside also. The Lord only knows what we shall meet beyond the mountains. Item, two cogged dice. Ay, ay, a rogue all through ! Ho would neither hglit fair nor play fair, but he's ta'en his wages, so we may let that pass. Item, one knife. Now ! look at tlie blade ! Seven incliea long if a hpir's-breadth, and keen as a barber's blooding -tool. A back, too, stout enough to carry it tlirough a rib as easily as I would slice a currot. Mark, also, that it is new. A true and nice courtesy in tiie worthy gentleman who lies yonder, and accounts for one or two of the vanished crowns : you don't buy such a knife as that for nought ! And last ; item, a brass token of high and peculiar sanctity, for the legend saith it has been blessed by no less a person than the Cardinal lUshop of Toledo himself, and is granted as a special favour to Bernardino — now plague take me if I can decipher the rest, 'tis scrabbled. A nice man Bernardino ! He took as few risks as may be for this world or the next, and yet, mark how he miscarried ! " " Then, seigneur," said Jean Minet timidly, " your lordship has no need of aught save the paper and the bone charm ? The rest " " Pouch the coin, the buttons, the cord, the dice, the saint, and the brass token, friend," said Marcel. " Let the rest be, and do thou come and put this Bernardino to bed. If we keep the dag and the knife we will pay thee for them. Take the paper, THE ilANK OF TEUKHA SAUMAICZ. 119 Master IJlai.sc hi.s suuill iiiconsiderato pioce of bono will serve me as rememluMiice." " We will take the weapons at two crowns eaeh,' said I shortly ; '* the bag of powder to go with the dag. Saving iiis sword, whieh I made no doubt you had hidden away, is this all ? " " All, seigneur, all," he cried, letting the (question of the sword slip by him. " See, I swear it on the holy apostle." " I will take thy word for it, friend. Now to your task. Marcel." While they buried him I unfolded the grimy paper. If not, as Marcel had said, frayed at the edges, it was at least worn so thin at the folds that tlie light showed through in thin lines, and the writing, being of the faintest, was hard to read. It was in the hand of a woman, tremulous, but yet roundly formed, and ran to this effect: — " I, Teresa Saumarez, hereby ratify and reailirm my promise that I will pay you, J3ernardino Zarresco, or the bearer of the Toledo token, 150 Spanish crowns or 50 ducats of Milan at your choice, in addition to a like snm already received by you, provided always that proof to my satisfaction be forthcoming that the thing you and I wot of ib fully accomplished. To this I pledge my oath in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Teresa Saumahez." Then came a ragged edge whence a strip had been 120 A KING S PAWN. torn so that, to my great chagrin, both date and place of signing were missing. A sore loss they were to prove presently. To him who held the key the enigma was clear: the paper was neither more nor less than a contract in solemn form, and for my own destruction ! 121 CHAPTEE X. TWO MKN OF DISCRETION. 1 PRAY with all my heart," said Marcel, three hours later, " that the King will send us the men of his choice speedily. This Minet of yours, Master Blaise, has too deft a way with dead men to please me. I would rather he handled them with larger respect, and have an idea that the niglit air of the valley might be unhealthy for us." " If they slept at Oloron last night, as I reckon they did," answered I, " you may look to see them top the rise any minute. As for this Minet of mine, as you call him, I warrant him honest." " Honest ? Oh, ay, I know the kind of honesty ! It is rife after every battle, for what theft is there in robbing a corpse of what it has no further use for ? To my mind a three league space between us would be a mighty aid to Master Minet's honesty." " Then saddle up," said I, " and go as far as the stream to see if the two be coming. If they have half the virtues the King endowed them with, there Ill" .y 122 A king's pawn. is little chance that they will lag while on his business." "Virtues in the King's presence, and virtues out of it, are two different things," quoth Marcel senten- tiously. "Trust a court lord no further than you see him, say I." "Then the more reason to go and meet them," replied I, " since, be they who they may, we must needs trust them up to the hilt for two weeks to come." " Would to the Lord they were at an end," answered he, as he climbed into the saddle. " Two weeks said the old death's-head at Pau, and here we have to trust God knows who for these same two weeks, and if they fail us " Out shot his palms before him, and up went his shoulders to his ears; and the pantomime was as expressive as if he had held forth for an hour. Minet had gone about his business. What it was, or where it lay, I never knew, nor did I at that time set eyes on him again. He being gone. Marcel and I had the plateau to ourselves, nor was there aught for me to do but watch the squire pricking slowly up the slope through the grass. He was in no haste, and the distance was a few hundred paces at most, so that, but for a horseman's dislike to going a-foot when he can ride, he might have tramped it. As listlessly as I gazed so listlessly he rode, the great four-feet weeds lording it above the grass, docks, teasels and cow-parsnips, slapping and picking at his TWO MEN OF DlSCllETION. 123 jackboots. Then, as he neared the top of the rise he straightened himself, and roused his beast into life with a dig of the heel. In three bounds they were on the crest of the hill, and reining his horse in with a jerk Marcel rose bolt upright in the stirrups, steadying himself with a grip of the knees. For a moment he stood straining at gaze, his hand hollowed above his eyes, then grasping the reins with both fists he swung round and galloped downhill with a fine contempt for his neck's safety. " Mount, mount, mount," he roared as soon as he came within clear earsliot. " 'Tis the King himself, Master Blaise, — the King of Navarre, and no other." " The King, man ? " answered I, rising leisurely on my elbow. " What gnat in the brain has bitten you this time ? The King is at Vic." " Am I a fool not to know Henry of Navarre," replied he, drawing up beside me with such a tug at the reins that his beast fairly slipped uphill on its crouched haunches. " The King it is, and if he is to fare to Spain with us the fat's in the fire with a vengeance. "The King, the King?" repeated I, stumbling to my feet and fumbling at the horse-gear with fingers that had neither feeling nor instinct in them, so dumbfoundered was I. " The King here ? It is madness in you or in him — pure madness." Back to me came Jacques Gobineau's caustic grumblings. "The King's a dog straining on the I I s a: i 124 A king's pawn. leash," said he, " and with Eosiiy and Morny out of Navarre the tether is longer or the leash weaker!" God grant it were not snapped altogether. Once already a mad freak of Henry of Navarre's had run us into a trap. Was the man renewing the boy's folly, and must a life pay for the whim as it paid then ? Back, too, came IMarcel's groan, " Plague take the fine thoughts of the King of Navarre ! " and as I pressed home the bit in my beast's mouth I stamped in fair vexation. "Madness?" echoed Marcel. "Ay, madness, in very truth, but not in me; and can you stop it Master Blaise?" " I can try," answered I, between my teeth. " To squire Henry across the border is to play traitor to tlie Kingdom, and that I shall never do, though he kill me for the disobedience. But are you sure, man, are you sure that it is the Kin^r?" "Am I sure that you are Blaise de Bernauld ? " said Marcel curtly. " There are two of them, as he proniised. One is a stranger, but the other is the King of Navarre." "Will you hold to your word, Master Blaise?" he went on, as we breasted the slope in a lumping gallop; "if so, the King has my thanks, for he has unwittingly done us a good turn, and we may both see Bernauld yet." " What word, man ? " asked I testily, for my mind was full of trouble. "For the Lord's sake, bate chattering for once." TWO MEN OF DISCRETION. 125 "That you will turn back to Navarre, and so scotch this great idea of his. Burn his plans with his own heat, Master lilaise — that's my advice. Lord, Lord ! it's a new life to us both, a new life, and Madam Spider must spin a fresh web." " Not a foot will I budge," said I, " not a foot." " Not a foot ! " chuckled Marcel, slapping his thigh in his glee. Then he sobered, "But he's a kittle man to cross is the King, and a hard man to say Nay to. I'm thinking we'd best not holloa yet awhile." By this time we had reached the road, and there, sure enougli, were two horsemen jogging slowly to- wards us. Sure enough, too, one was Henry of Navarre. Not even the three furlongs of distance which lay between could make that doubtful to one who knew his every trick of gesture as I did. The upward tilt of the chin, the aggressive squaringa of the not over- wide shoulders, the sudden fiinginff out of a hand level with the breast and swift swoop of the fingers for the curled moustache, together with half-a-dozen mannerisms peculiar to the most pronounced individuality of his age, proclaimed the man without cavil or question. His companion, who rode his beast more soberly and with none of the volatile movements so charac- teristic of the King, was Rend de Montamar, a man some three or four years his junior, and a cadet of that great house wliich had given Queen Jeanne one of her seven famous viscounts. Shrewd, cool 126 A king's pawn. beyond his years, as full of cautious courage as of reckless devotion, I could have wished no better comrade on sucli a thorny business as this was like to prove than Eene de Montaniar. In him, too, I might look to find an ally when the pinch witli the King came. All that ran through my mind witli tlie first sweep of the eyes, and on its heels came the memory of Marcel's last words. Truly the King was a kittle man to cross, and lest my courage fail it behoved me to act while my blood was still warm and my purpose unshaken. " Bide thou liere," cried I, and set off at a gaibp. The King's first words were not comforting. "Turn about, turn about," he shouted as I came within earshot. "Ventre St Oris! you ride the wrong way, man ! 'Tis a brave tryst, Monsieur de Bernauld. and do I not keep my word to tlie letter ? The stream from the west and two men of courage and discretion willing to obey orders." Then he drew rein so that his horse fell to a walk, and sitting back in his saddle he roared with laughter at my dolorous face— roared till he almost rolled himself flat on the grass. " See to him, De Montamar," he gasped ; " saw one ever such a scandalised solemnity ! " "Sire, Sire," I cried, leaping to the ground and kneeling at his stirrup, " what midsummer madness is this?" "Neither madness nor fnljy/' replied he, straight^ ceu- TWO MEN OF DISCRETION. 127 ing himself and his face grown grave on the instant, " but sound sense, as I shall show you. Nay, man, hand-kissings are done with; an honest grasp, as between comrades, if you will. What ? did you tliink I would bid you harry a wasp's nest, and not myself take my risk of the stings? You shame tiie, J)e Bernauld, that after fifteen years you know me so little. Up, man, up ! we are all on a level here." " But, Sire," said I, rising as he bade me, " we are not, and never can be on a level, and what is a fit and common risk for Bernauld or Montamar is no fit risk for Navarre. Ah ! 1 see, Sire — you came to test me. You could not trust poor Blaise de Bernauld, so, under cover of a jest, you put me to the trial. Be it so, though the Lord knows it was not needed. Now that you have proved me, ride back to your train, Sire, and we three will ride south." "No, no, by my faith, that is not so," he cried earnestly. " I am no Valois to be suspicious of my tried gentlemen. In sober truth, I have come to see for myself how things stand across the border. As for a train, I have none nearer than Vic, where I doubt not Roquelaure .has half-a-dozen companies scouring the country searching for me, though it is a question if that can be called a train which has nought in charge and will have nought!" " Then in sober truth. Sire," answered I, " I would be no Mrnd to Navarre if I did not say this must stop here and now. Vv^ho gave you leave, Sire, to risk your head? We three will ride alone or we 128 A king's pawn. i I will not ride at all. What do you say, Monsieur de Montamar ? " " Ta, ta, ta," cried the King. " It will be a new thing for me to ask leave of any man to risk my head or whatever it may please me to risk. As to Monsieur de Montamar, what has Monsieur de Montamar to do with the will of his king ? Why, nought, save to obey it without question. Nor have you. Besides, I hold your promise." " A promise given in ignorance is no promise. Sire. Had you been as frank with me as I with you, we had never left Vic." "Plague take your Jesuitries," replied he. "A promise is a promise, and so will say any man of honour. Eh, Monsieur de Montamar ? " " Ta, ta, ta," cried I in my turn, and with an angry rasp in my voice. " As to Monsieur de Montamar, what has Monsieur de Montamar to do with the honour of Bernauld save leave it to its master's keeping ? This thing is folly, I say, folly ; and I will have no part in it." " Monsieur de Bernauld," said the King sharply, so sharply that I winced as if a hornet had stung me, " understand me at once, that I may not have to say it twice. For the present I am Henry of Navarre, and so to be obeyed without flinch or question. What, Monsieur, would you dare bandy pros and cons with me ? It is my part to command and yours to fulfil, and let there be neither pause nor hesitation. Later, when I am Monsieur d'Albret, it will be another TWO MKN OF DISCRETION. 129 matter. If needs must, as, indeed, needs will, Henry tlie Kirn- can sink himself in Henry the man. But not yet— nj, by my faith, not yet. Do you understand ? " I understood well enougji, but, for all that, had no mind to give up tlie point. " It is like this, Sire," and the lingers that twisted and plucked his horse's mane were as unsteady as on the day when I first laid my heart bare to Jeanne, my wife. " It is yours to command because you are Navarre, therefore it is to Navarre that I owe a first obedience. Now if this thing is for the ruin of Navarre " " Oh, a pest on your casuistry. Listen now to me. Though you turn back, though Master Marcel there turns back, as I don't doubt he would at a crook of your finger, for Bernauld is Navarre and all the world to him ; ay, and if this dumb fish of a Montamar turns back, yet will not I, but will ride on alone. If I am Navarre as you say, what will Navarre say to you then. Monsieur de Bernauld ? Tush, man, it is the part of a wise man to know when he is beaten, and. Ventre St Gris ! you are routed beyond rally. Mount, mount, and let us push on." Without waiting for an answer he put his horse at a trot, and left me biting my fingers and in two minds what to do. De Montamar ended the doubt. " Go we must, though it is on a fool's errand," said he. " He has been like a mad schoolboy these four- and- twenty hours, and is ripe for any mischief. The only hope is that we may sober him." 130 A KINGS PAWN. " Sober him ! " 1 groaiKid, but mouiitin<,f as I spoke. " There are but two things that will ever fully sober Henry of Navarre, old age and death, and of the former of these I have a doubt. Plague take it, man, wliy did you sit there mute ? Had you but spoken your mind we migiit have moved him between the two." " Not a jot, not a jot, no, nor would the whole council. He was pledged to himself in this thing, and whosoever he may disappoint it will not be Henry of Navarre." The King, as I have said, had ridden on, and now we found him Hinging jests at Marcel in true rough camp fashion, much to the squire's embarrassment. What turn aifairs had taken he knew not, so held his peace lest he made bad worse, and therefore stood sliifting himself from leg to leg like an awkward school- boy with his eye upon the ferrule. " Thou hast my pity, my friend. Truly my heart is sore for thee," Henry was saying as we rode up. " That master of thine has the temper of a bear. If he be-rates thee as he has just be-rated me, thy life nmst be a dog's life. And all for what ? For a little difference as to north and south, no more. Ay, here he comes. Mount, man, mount, and let us ride on, lest he let his tongue loose a second time." " Presently, Sire, presently," T cried ; " I have a message first." " A message, De Bernauld ? " and the King swung round on me sharply. " What message can you have TWO MEN OF DISCHKTION. 131 in these wilds ? Is tliis some fresh folly t Do not try my patience over-much, monsieur." " It is to pay a debt. Sire, and no more. Last nioarnnoise chanson wherewith his mother had sun^^ him into life — ^ " Notre Diuiii;, du bout du pont, Aidoz-iuoi 11 ccttu heme ! " Truly the King of Navarre was as variable in his moods as any ten women. ii I 132 CHAl'TEK XT. THllOUGII TlIK UIHS OF NAVAKllE. " What did I tell you ? " said Marcel, laughing softly. " ' The King is an ill man to cross,' said I. ' Not a foot will I budge,' said you. ' He is a hard nuin to say Nay to,' said I. ' 'Twould be the ruin of Navarre,' said you. Aiul " " Have done, num, have done. Is it not enough to be compelled to do a folly that is still a folly in spite of all the compulsion in the world, but thou must sharpen thy tongue on a gibe at it ? Or hearken, if the King's business is not to thy liking, turn back and go home again. Either come with a good grace or stay away — is that plain ? " " I did but jest, Mastc v Blaise," he cried hastily, putting out an appealing hand ; " and how is a plain man to know wliat to do ? One moment it is, we are comrades all, and equals all ; the next, ' Get to your kennel, hound.' I who would not anger you for a king's ransom." " My fault, old friend," said I, conscious of my ill- temper and pricked to the heart at the sorrow in his TIinoUOH TIIK Kills OF NAVAUUE. 133 g softly. . 'Not 11(1 man ruin uf enough folly in lut thou hearken, irn back dd grace hastily, 3 a plain t is, we 'Get to iger you ' my ill- w in his voice. " Tlu3 King was right. T am as surly as a bear. lUit can you marvel ? If aught goes wrong, who hoars the blame? Why, lUaiso de iJermuiM, wlio out of his riper years .should have known better tlian to give the King his head. If all goes well, wlio gains the credit / Why, the King and no otlier, since it is the way of the world to praise the great and blame the liumbh.. iu,t hit that be. Leave these five crowns on Jean Minet's settle. He <'i\vo us ot his best, and neither peer nor peasant could do morc!. (Jod forbid that we should play the churl to him. Then its * Ho I for Spain.' " " Ho ! for Spain," he echoed disnially, like a Jew saying his pater noster on Holy -Cross day. "For the Lord's sake, wait for me, Miister lUaise, while I do your bidding, lest tiu; cur in nie turn tail." Tt was where the road, having mad. a sharp ascent, curves abruptly across the naked ri , of an angular spur that we at length made up upon the King and de Montamar. They had drawn rein on the "^sumy flat of the cr(. ,, at the point which still h.dd in full view the wmding cleft we had traversed and yet opened u] thi; wild ravine which lay before us. Above was sheer rock, witli a line of pines like a far-off pent eyebrow; below was sheer rock, the Gave no more than a roaring tiiread of silver, Jostling and tearing at the stern bounds whicli iudd it back, lieyond the stream the sinuous bends of the barren cliffs fell away on either side until lost behind grey crags as sombre and as barren as themselves. Life 134 A king's pawn. everywhere was at its lowest ebb. In its despairing clutches for existence it had gained a feeble foothold on the southern precipices, but on the north the sun had driven it to utter rout; there was neither shrub, nor grass, nor weed, nor greenery of any kind, — nought but a ponderous and many-ribbed skeleton of death. Yet it pleased the King's fancy. " See," said he, with a sweep of his arm that gathered into its scope the whole bend of the valley — " See what a barrier of heights and depths the mercy of God Almighty has set between us and the throaten- ings of Spain. With our outposts entrenched beyond these fastnesses, the King of France may sit on his throne in peace from all fear of Spanish meddling. Tell me, De Bernauld, is it not our part to see we hold the passes through and through and both north and south ? " " The wisdom is clear enough. Sire, but " " Ha ! " he broke in. " That is a point which had slipped from me. Let there be no more talk of Sires. Henceforward we leave the crown and its trappings of lip courtesy behind, and until we sight Pau again I am plain Henri d'Albret, a simple gentleman in the train of Monsieur Blaise de Bernauld." " No, no," cried I, hastily. " By your leave, Sire, Blaise de Bernauld is at home breeding sheep in the good county of Bigorre, where I would to the Lord I were with him. Henceforward, for reasons which you kiiovv, and until the King picks up the crown THROUGH THE RIBS OF NAVARRE. 135 again, I am Monsieur Blaise de Zero, and from my heart I pray you not to forget it." " What ! Have you still tliat maggot in the brain ? " "Ay, Sire, and with cause, for the old blowlly has laid a fresh crop." There and then I told them of our meeting with Master liernardino Zarresco, and of his bloody com- mission to Bernauld. "Chut," said Henry, as I ended. "It's a long league to Toledo. Let us not cry out till we're hurt. Tliat the fellow meant you a miscliief, I grant, but," he went on, Beza's theology coming' to the surface, "that no mischief was to befall "you is shown by the grave in Jean Minet's pasture, and if not a mischief from him who sleeps there, why from another ? " Which was very comforting to the man who was not threatened— though, for that inatter, there is nothing easier to be endured in the whole world than another's dangers, unless it be another's losses. Later my anxiety on the King's account got a little consolation from De Montamar. Henry had ridden ahead, and in his new mood of democracy nothing would serve him but that Marcel should ride with him wherever the width of the path gave space for two abreast, which in such a cramped country was but seldom. We others, therefore, hung togetlier. " How came you to lend yourself to such a mad prank as this ? " asked 1, sourly, as we jogged along 136 A king's TAWN. ,1 I at a foot-pace. To go faster was to court a broken back or a cracked skull, so full of rolling stones was the steep road. " There in Vic a No, with a hint to Eoquelaiire to back it, meant more than it did an hour since on the slopes." " What ! Do you think he trusted me ? No, not by so much as an inch. ' I have business at St Jannes, — come thou with me. Do Montamar;' and I, with no second thought in my head but that it was well Madame Margot was elsewhere, went against his custom. He Iiad no pity on horseflesh, and that of itself should have set me tliinking ; but I was a fool, and spurred on as hotly as himself. Twice, indeed, I spoke, but he only looked askew at me from the corners of his eyes, and spurred the harder, saying, ' The thing is urgent.' " At St Jannes there were fresh beasts waiting us, and with no more delay than sufficed to fling our- selves from saddle to saddle, we rode on. ' I was wrong,' said he, with a queer twist of his mouth ; ' the business was at Lescar.' But he left Lescar to the right and dashed through the Gave at the Grey ford, and never drew rein till we reached Oloron, nor for the last hour of the ride would he so nmch as let me get within five lengths of him. By that it was dusk, and as he rode through the town with a cloak about his face, he was as free from recognition as the Grand Turk. That night he told me his wild plan and swore me to silence, and when I dared remon- strate he gave his tongue as loose a rein as he had THROUGH THE KIBS OF NAVARKE. I37 given his horse all day, and played the King as none but he can play it. What could a man do, De Ber- nauld ? It was like this,— " ' It is madness, Sire.' " ' It is sense, monsieur, and therefore beyond your cojnprehension.' " ' I will ride back, Sire.' " ' Who are you, monsieur, to fling I wills at your Aing ? Be careful, I say, be careful' " ' I will raise Oloron, Sire.' " ' And be the first De Montamar to break your l^edged word. Go on, monsieur-lie, lie, and raise Oloron. " ' Oh, Sire, Sire, for Navarre's sake.' God's name, man, it is out and out for Navarre's sake . but that thick head of thine could nnder- stai! . " ' At least take a fitting guard.' " ' Ay, and send a trumpeter aliead proclaiming— Here comes his most puissant and still more out-at- elbows Majesty the King of Navarre. You would ensure me a warm welcome!' But it is madness, Sire.' " ' So you said ])efore. I am no lover of parrots 30 Montamar.' Again I say, what could a n^an' do ? " Something," said I, still sourly, " surely some- thing." " Something is own brotlier to nothing," answered he impatiently. " When a man is at his own wits' 138 A king's pawn. i ' i ! » ' end he always flings a * something ' at his neighbour. But this much I did without the King's knowledge. I warned Roquelaure from Oloron, and in two days he should be on our track." " What ? And you sworn to secrecy ? " " Secrecy ? Who talked of secrecy ? I said silence, and a tvvist of paper has as quiet a tongue as Mornay himself. Do you call that breaking silence ? " To which I made no answer, for the King had halted and was waiting for us. The gorge had suddenly forked, or rather another valley as cramped as that up which we had ridden opened to the right, with a narrow wedge of rock thrust between. " Which path, De Bernauld ? " cried Henry. " Thou art leader." " Leader if you will," answered I, " but not guide ; and since you, Sire, have led us by the nose thus far, you had better finish what you began." For a moment he looked affronted at my blunt speech, and a bitter answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he checked himself and replied smoothly enough, — " Tut, man, there is no need to ruffle your quills. Since it concerns us all alike, let us take counsel. What saith thy grey wisdom. Master Marcel ? " " That it is dinner-time. Monsieur D'Albret, and who knows but the jaws may help the brain. As for the roads, they are as like as two peas in a pod, so for h^'a TirilOUGII THE RinS OF NAVARRE. 139 me the choice is a pulling of jackstraws and no more. 'Sound sense," cried Henry. "And did you hearken to his pat ' Monsieur d'Albret ' ? 'Tis more than I have got out of him this half hour past Yes and No were the length of his tether, and not even praise of Madame Jeanne could win more than a sour smile. Let us dine, then, and if the further counsel be as close to the point we shall do well." No dainty feeder was Henry of Navarre. Many a time I have seen a lump of bread torn from a two days' old loaf serve him as dinner, and without a grumble. What contented his soldiers contented him and in that frank sharing of their haps, chances, and privations lay much of his power. Your jack-at-arms loves a leader who, while he checks impudent famili- arity, can yet rub shoulders. Later he could hold ceremony and state with any king in Christendom but that was rather for the honour of the nation than to puff his own pride. In the end, so equally vile were the roads, and so similar the valleys in theii rising curves and promise of a final outlet, we took Marcel's method, and the lot falling on the gorge to the right we followed it, the King and I leading the way. What a ride that was. Paradise and Purgatory alter- nating, and between them broad glimpses ^of a dismal barrenness that might have passed for the very Hell of the great Italian. The asphodels were lone, passed but m favoured spots the yellow and blue gentians' 140 A KING S PAWN. the violet and purple saxifrages, and the great golden Pyrennean poppy, spread a garden that by its beauty set at nought the art of man. Then would come a dreary stretch of naked savagery, a veritable battle- field of fallen angels, piled with grey and formless rocks half-bedded in a troubled sea of splintered boulders wrenched from the upper heights. A vast sterility unrelieved by stunted shrub or tuft of grass ; a voiceless silence, where the sullen booming of the distant torrent was an offence and an intrusion. A dozen times in an hour a slip was death, so smooth and narrow was the road, and so sheer and ragged the descent. From the risks of such a fall chance of escape there was none, and at the best it could have been but a tattered pulp of humanity that would have found a resting-place on the lower ledges when tlie keen teeth that fretted the swift slope like a saw had done their work. But the weight of silence was the sorest trial. Little by little it wrought its will upon us all, as night works its will upm the world, slowly spread- ing, deepening, broadeni ^, till it holds the whole wide earth for a possession, So it was with the spirit of solitude : chatter fell to slow and solemn talk, laughter died, talk di ifted into desultory phrases, these to monosyllables, and presently we rode in grim unbroken silence, so burdened and oppressed tliat even thought itself almost became a blank. It was Henry who roused me to a dazed alertness by a cry and a sudden halt. THROUGH Till!; RIIJS OF NAVAKHE. 141 grass ; " Life at last," said he, pointing ahead. " Ventre St Gris ! but I began to think we were no better than ghosts in the nether world, and done witli time and change to all eternity. See, there is not only life but faith." A turn of the road had opened up a fresh stretch of the valley, and there, solitary, upon a small strip of sun-dried and sandy turf that fronted a huge face of weedless rock, was a grey chapel with cross, chancel, and belfry tower, but all in miniature. Two unglazed rough-edged lancet window's pierced the side, and the door stood open, as I liold the door of the House of God should always stand by day or by night. Involuntarily we had reined back to a slow walk, and for half the three hundred paces that lay between we rode in silence, curious and observant. " Saw you ever such a place before ? " said Henry at last. " Neither chisel nor hammer has touched a stone, and here and there, in the lower courses, are holes through which a man might thrust an arm. Mark the roof with its slatey slabs. I'll warrant these were split by the frost, and not by man's labour. Eound boulders from the stream for the walls, and flat Hags from some twisted scliisty rock for the roof, and yet a noble house of prayer, for all its poor plainness. Note, too, the legend carved upon the lintel the worker put his whole soul into that : ' MAKLi; Peca- ToiiUM Eefugio.' I warrant there is a full month's labour of love in these three words. A pity they are not truer ! Ha ! and see ! there dwelt the sculptor mason — priest, in that walled-up cleft in the rock." 142 ,'c. A KINGS PAWN. " Why dwelt, Sire ? Why not dwells ? " " Because men are not so common hereabout but that he would have left the Mass itself at the una of hoof's on the stone. No, the priest is gone." " Ay, but the sanctuary remains," answered I, " and thereby hangs a truth." " Keep such truths for Brother Mark — he has the larger need to learn them," laughed Henry, as he dis- mounted at the chapel door ; " and since the sanctuary remains, let us enter. To me, politics apart, altars are much akin. To the earnest soul there is the one God, the one main truth, the one Lord of mercy, what have we here ? De Bernauld, De Bernauld, come quickly ! what devilment has been at work ? " I had dismounted leisurely, and had paused at the door of the chapel for the coming up of Marcel and De Montamar, but at the King's excited cry 1 left the horses to their own keeping, and followed him with all haste. But, at first, to little purpose. In spite of the chapel's petty size, its windows were so narrow that the interior lay in such shadow as for the moment dulled the sight." There so dim was it that I stood, no more than two paces from the door, blinking and groping, and conscious of but one thing, that though the door stood open to invite to prayer, there were no lights ablaze upon the altar. Presently the shadows took form and outline. Eough pillars of flat stones — unhewn, untrimmed — ran up to the slope of the roof, blocking a full third of the cramped space. Beyond these, and at the farther end, THROUGH THE KIBS OF NAVARKE. 143 was a ruined and dishonoured altar, its poor covering of stuff rent to tatters, and crusted thickly with smears of white wax from the candles flung upon it while still aflame. A litter of withered flowers and leaves was strewn upon the uneven clay floor, as if the decora- tions of the holy table had been trampled under foot, but there was no sign of any sacred vessel. That was the harvest reaped by the first sweep of the eyes, for at such times the impulse is to look as far afield as may be, trusting to the instinct to grasp a danger that lies near ut hand. Then I turned to the shadows which bulked so hugely at my feet as to seem to fill the whole intervening space. There were two upon the floor. The one, the King on his knees and left hand, and bending low; the other, a thing stretched prone, the rigid lines of death showing clear under the arch of Henry's arm, despite the tumbled monk's frock— the face flat upon the clay, the shoulders curved by the hollow to which they had shaped themselves, the arms flung out, the fingers bent talon-wise in a last unconscious clutch. At the sound of my feet rasping their way across the floor, Henry raised himself, and the light from the side window, shining upon him as he turned, showed the gravely stern set of his face. " Help here, De Bernauld," said he, " though I fear we are too late by thirty hours. Take thou the feet, and let us have him out into the air. Way, there. Be Montamar. Nay, nay," he went on, testily, as Marcel sought to take the burden from him, "let me be Henry 144 A KINC'S PAWN. d'All.rot lias no need to be as nice as the Kiug in such things." Though it was but five steps to the sunshine, I con- fess I was thankful from my heart when they were ended. To handle a corpse has ever been an abhor- rence to me ; and to grasp the poor soul's legs, as if they were no more than the wooden poles of a barrow, raised my gorge, so that 1 fairly shivered. That he had been dead anything from twelve to thirty-six hours was plain, for he hung between us as stifHy as a fence rail ; and, as we turned him over in the sun, there was a horrible upward grip of the hands, as if he were alive, and craved our aid to set him on his feet again. " H'm," said Marcel, critically, as, in the cold stolid- ness of an expert in such things, he stood staring down into the dead face, "all the wounds in front, and yet torn like a ravined sheep. God rest him for a brave man. My faith, but it is not the soldier's jerkin that makes the stout spirit. See how the wretches luive mauled him, and then look at his hands, dust and dirt enough, but never a bruise or a spot of blood. I'll wager" if he had a thought beyond his rough rebuke of sin it was to save the altar, and not himself. A martyr for all his monkery, if ever there was one ; ay, a martyr among martyrs, for to die alone is no easy thing. The smash on the temple finished him as it might have finished a Goliath of Gath ; after that he spun round, twice maybe, and there was an end. I know the fashion of it, for I saw the thing thrice— once at Dreux and twice at Jarnac, and " ^ ill such e, I con- ley were 11 abhor- egs, as if I barrow, Lt he had ix hours i a fence here was he were it ayaiii. d stolid- ng down yet torn ive man. it makes mauled enough, W'ager, if >f sin it irtyr for I martyr g. The ht have II round, low the it Ureux TllfiOUGIl IIIE HIB8 Of NAVABHE. ..45 ■; Tlmt will do, friend," broke in Henry, who l,ad ns-tm gone down on hi.s knees, und w«s gently drawing baek the matted hair from the soiled forehead " I know now what will loosen your eautious tongue, and I pray God you may never have as pitiful a prompt- ing The thing is clear enough. No doubt the wre ehes eame upon him as he served the altar. No doubt, too, he faeed round, and talked frank truth to them ; little doubt, also, that he cursed them as thieves and breakers of sanetuary, and so showed them hell be- ore then- time. The rest was, for then,, a half-ndnute's tmy, and for him, at least, God's peace thereafter. And a 1 (or what ? a few poor pewter vessels, and a couple of half-burnt caudles!" Then he laid hi.s hand on the dead man's breast, and looked round upon us, one by one. "■ " The Lord aiding me," said he, with stern solem- nity, " I shall do sueh justice on these rogues as shall make the ears of whosoever hears it tingle. I am H«g«enot-oh ay, I am Huguenot; but, before God, 1 I catch these slayers of priests, they will think, for all my Hugueuotry, that the I'ope of Eome has got his gnp upon them." Then, as we stood round, with bared heads, a startling thing happened. The King had but done speaking when the head and the hands sank slowly back until they rested on the ground, and the appallin' sharp rigidity smoothed away, so that he lay as if in slumber. " A sign, a sign," cried Marcel, his face blanchin.-^ and indeed for the moment we all fell back. " The' It6 A king's I'AWN. '.m Lord God hear.s, and will ^rivo tliu duvilH into our luinds." Jiut for my ]m ' I think it was that tho rigour of deatli liad passed, and also tliat the sudden sliift from the cool of tlie cliapel to the liot blaze of tlie sun had sometiiing to do with the miracle. In tlie angle of rock, where he had lived unknown, unknown we l^uried him ; building round and over him' the smooth river stones which in life had formed his defence against the wolves. Tliere lie rests, a nam jless and almost forgotten hero, a stout-hearted fighting man in that great army which the Lord God recruits from every creed. Their units and their thousands perish, but their march is unstayed, unstayable, and trium- phant. They fall and rot by the waysieics and ditches of life, but the heart of truth they champion under different banners beats on eternally. God rest him hereafter, for I trow he gave himself little of ease on earth. Later, we came to closer quarters with some of these same brigands and masterless men such as had done the monk to death. The very identical villains, for aught we could tell. But by that time a thing had revealed itself to us which gave even stronger food for thought than the finding of a priest slain at his own altar - step. Little by little the road had grown fainter and more rugged. With ev(>ry ravine there had been the branching off of a petty track, no more than a smoothing of the stones in the rougher ways, or an almost invisible shortening of the wind -mown IStJi' into our tllilt tliu ) suddon ot bluzc niraclo. nknown, )ver liim iiied his iani3le8S iu'^ nvdu its from } perish, triuin- (Utchos 1 under 2St liiiu of ease onio of uch as lentical it time e even ; of a er and 1 been e tlian lys, or -niown TiiiioimH THE ninR of nwakrk. 147 grass, but still a sappin- of tbu breadth of tlie path. This tappiiiL' of the stream was draining it dry, and presently what had been a doubt and a fear came home to us as a trutli. We hail bst our way. This upliill track was no open pass from Navarre to Spain. V>y the time that knowledge was ours beyond (luestion, the day was too far worn through to let us dreani of return. The path, since there was a path, such as it was, must lead to life somewhere, therefore better go forward and face the chances than turn back into the dusk already thickening in the lower valley. The track led htoss !.he face of the slope, a mixture of rough grounc ;rid ti.tber, broken by a half mile long slide of smo >.'(, r< .,k set at a villainously steep angle. Three hunured feet it rose, and not an ell less; not sheer, but alinost sheer, and as even in its lines as if Charlemagne's fal^led sword had shorn it down. Here the road liugged the feet of the clifts and for cause, as the other side was a dip, so sharp and so strewn with boulders that the' beast which stumbled down would have had legs tit for nougiit but marrow bones within three minutes. " Warily, warily," said Henry, as we left the cover of the timber and passed into the shadow of the great rock. "A loose stone here will take both man'^and horse a longer journey than fifty feet, and, my faith ' how thick they lie. Wliy, 'tis a charnel house for the earth's bonc^s ! l]ut what a place for a forlorn stand ! Ten stout men could hold .5 in check, ay, and rout them too, if they had but a brace of cannon.'' I 148 A king's pawn. " See," he went on, and reining up as he spoke " you would tumble a cart there, set half your men behind it, and the other half in tliat niche of shelter yonder. Your cannon you would place where they commanded the slope, and pouf-pouf " Suddenly he stopped, chopping his sentence in two as If it had been a radish, and, with one arm flun- up across his face, sat staring at the crest of the rocks" " Ventre St Gris ! Spur, De Bernauld, spur ! " he cried, himself setting me the example. "Nay, man never ask why ; though, by the Lord, since you ask the question, there's your answer." From above there came a rumble and a clatter and glancing up as I galloped, I saw upon the line' of the ridge a dozen craning heads, no bigger against the sky than pin points, and a smoke of stones liurled roaring down the cliff. On they came, leapincr a dozen feet into the air at every bound, each impact ripping loose a score of fragments as murderous as themselves, until it seemed as if the whole broad face of the rock had crumbled into life and was clamouring down upon our heads. The cause of the rubble over which we plunged was clear enourrh now, and yet the King was right, gallop we must though for myself I know my heart was like so nmch water under my ribs from the stumbling and the sliding, until by nothing short of a miracle we all four had passed unscathed througli the fusilade. Once past llie clifls, and the length of where the TIIROUail THE RIRS OF NAVARRE. 149 «1 the pines once more sloped up, we were safe, and halt- ing, turned in our saddles to look back; and as we did so, a thing happened that made us draw in the breath and stare our hardest. Not for long, —it all passed while a man might count a dozen,' —but long enough to bring time and eternity into the one gasp. The cliff was still alive, and seeming to creep valleywards with the belated trickle of the lighter stones, when above the sullen rattle here came a cry: one cry only, but in it terror, wrath, despair, and agony were blent. It was the voice of a man,' but with the man's desperation there was the fear of the brute. A single cry, no more, for on its heels there came a horrible dull crunch, and through the wreath of dust that curled slowly earthward like the drifting spray of a cascade down the cliff', pitching heavily from ledge to ledge, tumbled a sprawling mass that whirled its poor helpless Hails of broken limbs as it circled in the air, and presently fell with a thud upon the roadway not twenty paces from us, and slowly rolled on into the ravine. Whether it was accident or design,— whether he had toppled in the hot excitement of his murderous eagerness, or been flung headlong in some mad quarrel,— we could not guess. Nor, for all the horror of it, could we honestly say, "God pity him." "One!" said Marcel, shaking up his beast and taking the road again. "One, and were it twenty and one it would be no great harm." f '^i 150 CHAPTER XIT. THE rat's hole. 1 It was some twenty minutes later that Marcel, who had been leading, turned round and trotted sharply back to us. By this time the night was grey in the valleys, and even the great square-pointed peak of Ossau Itself had r.o more than a tooth of crold to show that the sun had not yet gone to bed for the night. Let the gold fade into dull copper, and the copper grow grey cold, and the night would be on us with all the silence and haste of slippered feet ! "A shelter, Master Blaise, a shelter," he shouted as he came pounding down the path. "I cauoht the loom of its shape beyond the bend yonder — a poor place, but a shelter." "A roof and four walls," answered I, rousing n,y. self out of a sour brooding, " let them be as" poor as they may, are God's mercy when such nei^dibours as live above mere are within arm's length. " What did you make of it?" " 'Twas but a glance and no more," said he, shakincr THE rat's hole. 151 'ccl, who sharply y in the peak of gold to bed for per, and ' would lippered sliouted caught nder, — ng 11 y- ^s poor ,dibours What 5Jiaking his head ; " but it stands so flush with the road that I fear it is an inn or a wineshop, though I will vouch for neither the fare nor the welcome." " Hark to the man," cried Henry, as Marcel turned in behind us. " Here are we with nothing better to stay the crave of our stomachs but a wallet of stale food and he fears 'tis a wine-sliop ; fears, forsooth ! What has come to thee, friend, that thou turnest up thy nose at honest wine ? " " If the wine be honest," answered Marcel glumly, "it must be strong in spirit indeed that its morals are not wrecked, for I'll wager it will be the only honest thing in the house." " And why ? " asked I)e Montamar who rode by his side. " In my country, the poorer the folk the honester ; it is the half way man that is a rogue." "Ay," replied Marcel shrewdly, "because the poorer the folk the longer the arm of the law, and the sharper its claws. As for this place — tell me, monsieur, what manner of guests would empty the stoups and fill the tills of a wine-shop in such lawless wilds as these ? Such rogues as played ball with us below there, or folk who are not only honest but fools to boot, and so lose their way ? Why, the rogues for certain, and to-day you have twice tasted their quality. Now, it is like this. If one coward makes many, as the proverb says, I'll warrant many thieves will make one ; and if our host of the inn yonder — for inn it is, d'ye mark the bl.qck square of the sign ? — if our host, I say, doth not add the trades of 152 A king's pawn. K ? i el cut-throat and thief to that of wine-selling, and tWe more by the first than the last, never trust grey hairs again." "But," cried Henry, turning round in his saddle, at t e Z ," """' °' '"'™^'^ "l-y '" cock-a-whoop at the sight of it ? " ^ " Because," answered Marcel, ■■ we are not of the sheep that go sleeping to slaughter, and four men open h>ll.s,de. With all respect, I thought Mons,eur d'Albret knew enough of war to Sw ■•Monsieur d'Albret knows more of war in the field than of murder indoors." replied the King. Though ,t .s borne in upon him that before he s^s P u agam he may have been tausbt much he Jd not set out to learn. Now, De Bernauld. down with you, and let us smell supper." "No names, I beseech you, sire," .said I ; « and l»t Monsieur d'Albret set mo tK ■ lost I forget." " ''"'"I"^ "' ^^""»"' "Faith. Monsieur Zero. I think thou'rt right "he rephed, laughing. " „ u.e worst event befalls h 're is no need for these brigands of the rock to know Th m fishmg for gudgeon they have netted salmon " The auberge lay to the left-hand side of the road as m a hollowed palm turned on edge. The roughly square , „f „,;,, ^, ^^^ ^^.,^ ^^_^ ^Jy patched ,n hrowns and greys of n,a„y shades, while m THE UAT's hole. 153 the huge projecting eaves, the high-pitched roof, and lumbering porch had their own tale to tell of winter's snow-drifts. The house fronted on the road, its door being midway along the wall, with a small square window flanking it on either side. Thrust out from the hood of the porch was a sign, but in the dusk its fall was a blank. "Batter at the door," cried Henry impatiently. " Ventre St Gris ! custom does not come so often their way that Ha ! a light at last. Batter again to put a little quicksilver into their heels." But there was no need. From within came the rumble of a heavy step, the door was pulled back, and in its gaping mouth a man appeared sheltering a guttering candle with his fingers. " What's your will, gentles ? " said he, thrusting his head forward to see the better, and thereby flinging the light upon his face. A sturdy fellow he was— broad-shouldered and burly, coarse jowled, and with little pig's eyes peering from a fat face of a most unwholesome pastiness, a big nose, heavy full lips and red bristle of moustache, beard, and whisker running together. "We mountain folk get to bed early, and so, d'ye see " " Ta, ta, ta," I broke in, " we excuse the excuses. As to our will, what's any man's will after a nine hours' ride? Supper and bed for ourselves, a feed and litter-down for the beasts." "One, two, three, four," said he, crowing his neck round the door jamb to count us. " How many more A king's pawn. are there behind ? You can see for yourselves, gentles that there is no sparse here for a troop." I'our, man, four and no more," cried Henry im- patiently ; "and if the troop comes, why, we four will help you keep the door barred." He had cocked his head as the King ,poke. and now a twinkl. took lire in his little eyes, and his ^-ent race wrinkled with a grin. '' " Good, messire. good," and he nodded ; " if ill folks come in the night you will hold me scatheless ^ It's a bargain. There's a shed behind, g(..tles, where the beasts will be as snug as a cat in a basket. As fo- supper tA,^ good wife will see to ihat. JVfarie I^rarie" he roai..d across his .shoulder, "art thou and 'the old witch botl. gono deaf? Blow up the fire, slut, and set thy ste^vypan briskly to work." Leaving Marcel and our host to see to the horses we entered and found ourselves in what .erved for kitchen, common room, and tapster's parlour. A hu-e firepliice— black as a cavern, but filled six inches de^p with grey ash and half-charred faggots above which a great pot swung by a chain—yawned at the farther end ; at either side were shelves and cupboards. Broad settles of time -stained wood lined the walls their edges hacked, and the flatness of the seat almost lost m a bewilderment of rude carvings. In the centre of the room was a stout bench, along which were set unbacked forms, with a stool at either end. On this stood a smoky lantern, above which stared a wizened old witch of a vvoman leaning upo.i two sticks, while THE rat's hole. 155 by the fireplace knelt a stout-waisted younger dame, whose deep breatlis as she made the flaky ash Hy in dust testified to her depth of chest. To the ri^lit was the window, its sliding shutter in its groove beside it ; and presently from the left, and behind the house, we heard the grumble of voices and the stumbling tramp of horses on an unaccustomed floorway. Beyond the window a ten-rung ladder was propped, sloping, in the corner. Even at our entrance the woman never turned from her task, nor did she budge until she had a corner of the ashen gulf in a red glow that presently broke into a crackling blaze. Then she looked up and showed us a frank and comely face, broad -browed, and firm in the mouth. " Give me ten minutes, monsieur," panted she to De Montamar, who stood nearest. " A little ten minutes, no more, and you must be well served where you come from if you look awry on the supper of The Eat's Hole." " The Eat's Hole ? " echoed Henry, caught by the comely face and pushing to the front ; " faith, dame, the rat-catcher has my compliments on his taste. Ihit where got the place such a name ? " " There be mountain rats as well as valley rats," answered she, rising ; " and wheresoever the poor are there must be some hole for them to slink to, and we are the only burrow hereabouts. Fetch some wood, mother, to keep the blaze alive ; and sit you own, gentles. Eierre will fetch a skin of wine with him. 156 A king's pawn. When a man waits for supper, time is like a shod wheel, and goes the faster for being wet." As she spoke she bustled about over her prepara- tions, and soon a savoury smell spread itself abroad sharpening the already keen tooth of our Imnner As for the crone, having brought the fuel she seated herself by the opposite corner of the fire and watched us across the tops of her crutches, her withered lips and chin twitching and wagging in the palsy or age. "^ " The sooner the better, dame," answered Henry thrush-ng out a dusty leg as he spoke, " for our throats are about as dry as our boots, and both will take a deal of washing. But to a tired man supper is no more than half the entertainment. What of the night's rest ? " -ril warrant the rest, messire," answered she "l^olks who sleep here sleep sound." " Sleep sound," chuckled the crone, breaking into a cackle of laughter. " Oh, Saints ! yes, folks who sleep here sleep sound." " Ay ! " said Henry, turning on the bench to face her corner, " but where ? " " Why, there, there." Lifting a staff she pointed wavermgly upward at the smoked ceiling, and lauohed anew, " Could a man ask better ? " " She means in the garret above, messires." said Mane, shaking up her pan till its contents sana and spluttered in the heat. " We have but three rooms here. The one you see, whicli is over foul with wine THE KAT's hole. If) 7 face and the reek of meat for ••ontles like you, though some have used it at a pinch. Our own Ilea behind you, yonder. It is like what you see, but smaller, and there we tliree sleep. The tliird is the garret above, and runs from end to end, so that a score could stretch themselves in it and never jostle. Call me pig if you iiave aught to grumble at in the morning." At that Marcel came in, with Pierre at his heels bearing the promised skin of wine under his arm. This he set on the table, together with four wooden tankards tliat might have held a pint apiece. " What kind of beast have we here ? " cried Henry, moving the lantern the better to look at the wine vessel. " 'Tis a kid of the goats, and, by my faith, well nourished, though it is long since he filled his belly with meat. Mark his fatness, Master Marcel. Wilt ;hou have a rib to thy share or a piece off the haunch ? " " The blood for me," answered Marcel, falling into tlic King's humour; " I have bones enough of my own." Truly it was a quaint flagon, if flagon such a vessel could be called. Saving that it lacked the head and the four hoofs, it stood upon its stumps on the table a three-months' kid, shaggy hide, tail, and smell com- plete. The neck and legs were bound fast with whip- cord, and the rip in its belly had been so cunningly sown that not a drop oozed through. " If it b(> not better than it looks " began D^i Montamar, but our friend of the red bristles cut him short. " Never judge a bottle or a woman by the outside 158 A king's pawn. o uu-nmo." said he, whippin,^ the boiist off the bench and runnin^r a k„ife-point under the knot at one le-- point. " You nuist kins tlieir lips before you can judcre either. Taste that!" he added, Nvith a nu-l.tv ring of pride in ' :, •, ifoe. ^ Lifting ''• beakc to liia nose, Henry snieit the contents. " I couid wish her breath were sweeter," said he and put bis lips to it cautiously. " That wine and women are umeh alike. ^ ^,^uc, i,e went on, settin-r down the vessel with a wry face. " Some are over green for a man's palate and some go sour with a-c Some put spirit in a man, some turn him to a bruL beatt, and some are to be avoided like tlie very devil •Ihis wine of yours, my friend, is the last, but as even a she-tartar is more endurable when the stomach is full, we will be just, and defer final judgment" _ " Meanwhile/' said I, "lei us see this famous ..rret of your^'." " For .are, messire, for sure," and lifting tiie laddc from Its corner, he dragged it into the space between the bench and the window. " The trui. I. tliere " s'lid ho pointing to a square in the grii.y roof where the spiders had b^en disturbed a their spinnincr. Theii he poised the . .dder carefully, and ihrust it"stron.dy upward until the end ran a full foot bevond the phtne of the ceiling. " J^y your lea^ c, gentles, ' and he lifted the lantern from the table, " 'Us but for a minute and the fire will give you ligi.t. u is as pile' y as the night alcove here." "iJIH ' WH T![R l!ATS IIOLK. 150 btJiicli t Up the ladder he rti riiiiihly iur all hi.s bulk, and pushed the trap-door upward until it loll hack with a banj4 that sent the dust Hying in a line cluud tVoni the cracks in the boards. "A noble room, mcsr'— ; why, the Kinj,' in his palace is not better housed. Look/' and he swung the light above his head. " Eight," cried Henry, who had followed us. " I will wager we shall sleep as well as the King himself. Leave us the light. Master Pierre, and while thou and madame set out the supper we will give an eye to our lodging." For a moment th ' fellow liesitated, but I ended his doubts by snatching the lantern from liis hand and pushing him towards the ladder head, with " We give thee three minutes, but not a tick longer, so make haste." As his head disappeared below, the King gripped me by the elbow. "'The Hat's' Hole' they call it," said he softly, " but I say the rat's trap. Wh;i» do you think, l.)e '•nauld?" ' I' us first make our rounds. Sire, then 1 will answer.'' The garret stretched not only, as the wonum had said, from end tu end of the house, bvi .so '■ m back to front, so that, '^c far as floor s])ace wen!., it could have given barrn k space to the whole troop that Master Pierre declared he had no room for. A second irap-door lay towards the farther cud, and opcnc as i I 160 A KIN(i'R PAWN. «"• jn.lKocl, ovur our l,osf« sIcopi„f;.room. To the ront w,« „ window closed l,y . „|i,|i„j, ,|,„tt„.. t„ he back a yreat two-winged w„odc„ gate that at its t..l est must have opened a spaee of ten feet breadth and at each end there wore two doors of about half that wnlth. All these, except the window, wore fast barred, but what was strange was that thoUHh the slope of th. roof ean.e mid-way down (he walls, these doors and gates were so bnilt that they ran a n.ore than con,mon height, the sides being cased like dormer WM,dows Except for half a dozen straw m,.ttresses sou tered here and there upon the door, the place was witliout furnishings. " H'm," sai ready to f Henry 3 ladder. 3t's nest, stinging. CHAPTEE XIII. THE king's wager. The room below was in the intermittent darkness of a flickering fire, De Montamar and Marcel casting luige shadows that bulked sharply against the walF, and then were gulfed in the gathered blackness. By the foot of the ladder stood Rodbeard, staring up towards the trap and with his foot on the first rung ; and as the embers shot into flame I caught a look of eager intent suspicion in the malevolent good nature of his face. " A plaguy long three minutes, gentles," he growled as he shouldered the ladder back into its corner, while Henry set the lantern upon the bench. " But that it was no business of mine if your supper spoiled, I would have cried you down long ago." " Lay the blame on the size of your room, friend, and not on us," answered Henry carelessly. " Why, man, it would house a troop ; ay, and defy a troop! too, which is a comforting thing, even tliough no disturbance is possible in such a placid quietness as reigns .lere. ^,ow, dame, supper, and let us taste the goat's milk a second time; mayhap it improves on r 164 A king's pawn. acquaintance. Certes ! no knowledge could make it grow worse ! " What all was in the savoury mess she poured into the great wooden bowl which was now set before us I know not. There were shreds of more than one kind of flesh of beasts, tags and scraps stewed almost to a pulp and tender as jelly ; wings and legs of wild birds ; beans, carrots, cabbage, onions, olive oil, grated cheese, garlic,— and all brought cunningly to the thickness of a porridge, so that a hungry man might sup it with a spoon and yet eat solids. This much I know, it touched the palate delicately, and warmed the stomach with a generous contentment that is not often found in king's banquets. As for the wine, it was execrable and smelt like stale vitals. " This will never do ! " cried Henry, setting down his measure. " There must be better wine than this in some corner of The Rat's Hole, else would the rats die of thirst. Have it out, friend, and if it be a question of cost never fear but we can pay the shot. For, d'ye see, it is not only a man's pleasure but a man's sleep, and a night's rest is well worth an extra crown or two. To drink such stuff as that would be to ride a nightmare and start broad awake at every creak. Come, search thy cellars again, and Marcel will lend thee a hand." " What ails the drink, messire ? " said the fellow, with a grin ; " has it not body enough ? " " Body enough ! " echoed De Montamar ; " ay, but THE king's wager. 165 d make it )oured into before us I n one kind almost to gs of wild oil, grated ly to the agry man ids. This lately, and ntentment lets. As like stale ting down than this d the rats f it be a the shot. ire but a 1 an extra would be at every d Marcel lie fellow, " ay, but not the body of grapes. It is the quintessence of a herd of goats." " 'Tis a man's arink, stout and full-blooded, and so I gave it to your worships," answered the innkeeper impudently; "but since it is over -heavy for you I must try you with what we of the mountains call babes' liquor. This," and he slapped the goat's hide on the flank with the familiarity of old friendship, " is from the south, and has the stout blood that comes of a southern sun ; the other is from the north, and is as thin as whey." Binding up the vent in the skin, he tucked the beast under his arm and disappeared, returning im- mediately with a small cask of the capacity of about seven gallons upon his shoulder. This he set down upon the edge of the bench, and having drawn for- ward the settle he placed a wide -mouthed earthen- ware crock under the vent. " Now, messire," said he to Henry, who was seated nearest him, " do you tilt forward the crock while I knock out the bung. Good, good ; you are fit to be a master cellarer, messire. Put your nose down to that ; how does that smell to your dainty worships ? " KoUing back the cask until it lay bung uppermost on the bench, he threw the dregs of the Spanish wine upon the lioor and dipped the tankard into the crock. " Blood of Spain and blood of Navarre," said he with a grin, as the wine ran into veins and splashes in the sand, " and as I'm an honest man I love to spill them both, but all in the way of business." 166 A king's pawn. I' ? 1' i P H bH r ' 1^ 1 ^ '^■'1 !* * * '^S '\'' (^3 t ^ '7' i ' i 8 ^j!\9 m " How else does any man spill blood ? " said the King carelessly, and lifting the tankard to his mouth as he spoke. " Soldier, rogue, or innkeeper, 'tis all in the way of business, is it not ? Though if there be aught in a jest it is Spanish blood that will run waste to-night, and not that of Navarre— an omen, friend, an omen ; so if you stand for Spain, look to yourself.'' With an excess of caution born of sorrowful re- membrance, he sipped the contents of the tankard, smelt them, dipped in a finger-point and eyed tlie' red drop critically, then sipped again. Then he set down the tankard and turned upon Kedbeard. " Babes' liquor in truth, and none should know it better than I," said he. "Which art thou, rogue, fool, or jester, that thou revilest good Jurancon wine' and pratest of it as babes' liquor ? Look you, master host, here are we four gentlemen stranded without so much as a dicebox to pass the time, and so to give us all sport I will play a wager with thee. Ten crowns to nothing tliat tankard for tankard I will drink thee drunk with this same babes' liquor of which thou art so contemptuous. Ten crowns, host, and I will pay thee for the wine beforehand, both of thy drinking and mine, lest hereafter my wit be too sodden. Is it a bargain ? See here." Pulling out a pouoli he shook a heap of coins out upon the table, and ran his finger-tips through them, playing with them till they jingled and rang like the clatter of a silver bell. "Was there ever such a madcap offer made fill . THE king's wager. 167 ? " said the his mouth sr, 'tis all in if there be 1 run waste Liien, friend, yourself." rrowful re- hie tankard, i eyed tlie 'hen he set iard. Id know it hou, rogue, angon wine >^ou, master without so to give us 'en crowns drink thee ih thou art 1 will pay 1^ drinking )dden. Is > of coins ►s through and rang ffer made before ! " he went on, laughing as he spoke, and still jangling the money. "Here is a chance for a man to drink his own liquor and be paid for the drink- ing, and, mayhap, reap ten crowns in addition. It is business and pleasure in one, the spilling of nmch Navarre blood, but all in the way of trade ! What sayest thou, host. By the way, what is thy name, friend ? " " Pierre Salces, messire," answered liedbeard, eyeing the shining heap wistfully as he bent across the end of the bench. " Good. Fetch a measure for thyself, Pierre Salces, tliat we may drink fair. My faith ! but it is long since I drank myself drunken with JuranQon wine, but the morrow's repentance will be cheaply bought by the night's rest. Come, man, to our wager." But from two quarters there came protests, — De Montamar across the table and the hag from her corner both alike cried out upon the folly. "No drink, Pierre," she screamed shrilly, scram- bling to her tottering feet and pounding her way upon her sticks to where we sat. " For the love of God, gentles, keep the wine from him, for he goes fair mad with it. Pierre, Pierre, bethink thee, man, wouldst thou give thyself to the devil again as thou didst before ? " Nor was De Montamar less importunate, though the poor lad was sorely at a loss how to bring the Kimi to a y-eniembrance of his rliimif.v nnH vpt not betray him. Under cover of the woman's passion ■ ■i ! i' ^ 1 1 ^ i' If- ?f' mi 168 A king's pawn. he leaned across the table and caught Henry by the sleeve. "Monsieur, monsieur, this is not the place nor time for such a jest. Do you forget how much hangs upon " But the King shook him off, and turned upon him as he had once turned upon me at Vic, and before the wrath of his look De Montamar slipped stammering back to his seat Few men cared to face the lightning passion of Henry of Navarre. " Jest ? " he snarled, still staring and smiting the table with his open pahn as he spoke. " Who thinks of jesting ? Am I a buffoon, monsieur, to play antics for a hare-brained whim ? More hangs up. -n it than you dream, and it is your ignorance wins your pre- sumption pardon." Then like the sudden Hash of the sun from a thunder cloud his dark mood passed. "What? May a man not play himself once in a while when the freakisli humour takes him? If thou hast a mind to keep sober, then keep sober- who prevents thee? As for me, I have a mind to be drunken for once." But though De Montamar was silenced the ha^ was more persistent. Tlirusting herself between Kedbeard and the table she pushed him back, and levelled a palsied stick at his face. " There shall be no drink." she cried quaveringly. " For thee, Pierre Salces, drink is blood. Shall "l tell the gentles of the last time thou wentest mad uruiiK X C bring them through the door THE king's wager. 169 yonder, and show them the stain on the floor ? Eh, ye may well look, hangdog, and ye may well curse in your beard. But better you be hangdog than I a corpse, and if no other way will stop you, and needs must, I'll tell the truth. I'm o'er old to die in a hurry, and so " It was Marie, the wife, who stopped the outburst. She had been busied here and there about the great presses that flanked the fire, bnt at Henry's challenge she had ceased all work. Standing midway between us and the whitening ashes, she watched the scene with troubled eyes, gnawing her lip, her nervous fingers crimping and twisting the edge of her soiled apron. Now she broke in. " For shame, mother, for shame," said she sharply, but watching her husband all the while with dread and terror plain to bo seen. "My man's a good man. Let him do his work his own way." "Ay," answered the other, lowering her stick, "a good man enough when the drink's not in him, but how's a sodden log to do his work, tell me that ? " " Ha ! " cried Henry, resting his palms on the edge of the table, and pushing himself back upon the settle. "Why, the house is a very Cerberus; it has three heads. But what of this stain, master innkeeper ? " At the King's question the wife's face suddenly blanched, and I saw her hand fly up to her throat as if a sob choked her. " It- w.as but a lamb, messire," said slic, breaking in before her husband could answer, but speaking with 170 I il A king's pawn. a queer catch in her breath. " My man was in his cups and it angered him, and so— and so " " ^y. ay ; a pet of the house ? Men are brutes at times. Let the tale rest, dame, let it rest." " Yes, let it rest," cried Pierre Salces furiously, his fat face aflame with anger, and the little pig's eyes of him no more than pins' poinds in the pucker of his brows. " Take your chatter to bed. Is a man's one fault to be for ever flung in his face ? Let it rest, I say, lest I show you what manner of man I can be out of my cups as well as in them." Striding to the door of communication, he flung it open. "Begone to your kennels the two of you; and you, woman, cease your mewling, lest I give you fresh cause to howl; what's done is done, and there's an end of it." At that they went, but their going seemed to me to savour more of the discipline of a heavy hand than goodwill, for even at the threshold the elder woman paused and faced him anew. "There be no more lambs," said she, with more stern solemnity than had seemed possible to one so palsied ; " and so, lest a greater evil befall, I conjure you " But with scant ceremony he thrust her into the black vacuity of the unlit room beyond the par- tition, and banged the door behind her. Then, with a deprecatory shrug of the shoulders, he turned back to us. "A man must be master in his own house. THE king's wager. 171 a was in his 80 " are brutes at t." furiously, his le pig's eyes le pucker of Is a mail's face ? Let < maimer of as in them." he flung it wo of you ; lest I give is done, and lemed to me heavy hand d the elder , with more ie to one so 11, I conjure ler into the d the par- Then, with he turned own house. I 1 1 gentles: a pretty thing it is that the likes of her should seek to keep such a man as I in leadinc strings as if I were a new - breeched boy. Ten crowns you said, niessire," and his little eyes flashed with greed — "tcs -jrowns and the price of the wine ; tliat'U be, urn — urn — three crowns more." "Three kingdoms!" cried Henry. "Thou art extortionate, master host, but for the sake of the jest I'll not haggle witli you. Thirteen pieces; it is a sign of ill fortune that same thirteen, and, mark you, it goes from me to you, and follows the omen of the Spanish blood." "Let the morning read its own omens, messire," answered he sullenly, and dipping his tankard in the pitcher as he spoke ; " our business is witii the wager." In a life prolonged far beyond that of the average of men, especially in these times when battle and bloody death have laid my fellows in swathes as mowers do the grass of a field, I have rarely borne a part in a stranger scene. It was a picture tliat would have taxed the i)0wers of a Buonarcftti, sup- Ijosing he had left his saints and angels and con- descended to common men, and a half-possession of the devil. For though it was a jest in name, tragedy lurked so near that its shadows were fiun" across the laughter, and the desperate game of life and death was slowly played to its eternal close where outwardly there was the light-lieartcd banter of an hour. w m 172 A KINr's I'AWN. Of US all, De Montamar, irr spite of his smooth face, was thu most serious. Henry and I knew our parts, and to play them out wm no hard matter. Marcei knew nought and can"' nought. It was enough for him that Master Liai.si was content, the King's freakish folly was none of his care. Or if a thought troubled him, it wan that he himself was not chosen to champion the hard heads (f Navarre, since how could a mere court-bred King compare with a seasoned squire o^" the camps? Pierre Salces, on his part, was well content. Who- ever lost, his wine was drunk and paid for at thrice its value, and from tlie grim smile on his square jaw I judged he thought it would be a bold messire who emptied his pouch of the ten crowns. Besides, he doubtless looked upon the wager as already won, and behind it all his thou^ hts, I take it, were busy with what manner of scene the moiiiing light would show in the chamber above. l>r»..;, De Montamar was in the dark, and saw nothing b-.it another mad folly which would give good cause to the enemies of Henry of Navarre to sneer and gibe. So that it was witli knitted brow and un- ceasingly gnawed under -lip that he sat, and, all unknowing, watclied tlie King play the Ibol and risk the sot for four men's lives, of which one was his own. "Eight," cried the King, answering the fellow's last words. "Our business is with to-night and not with to-morrow. Gentlemen, to your duty 1 ^» THE king's \>aoer. 173 f his anioo*-h I knew our hard matter, ht. It was was content, lis cure. Or he himsult d heads of •t-bred King the camps ? tent. Who- paid for at tni^o on his ivould be a of the ten upon the lis thoughts, 3f scene the liber above, saw nothing good cause • sneer and •w and un- it, and, all e Ibol and ch one was 'he fellow's -night and 'our duty I "'Hiih- as he watched lire, messire ; niay- t it too full before Do you measure the weapons and let us fall to work." Pouring bac Red beard's wine ilie crock, 1 careful'v reHlled hi tankard so tl it the contents lipped the brim ; tlien, taking the King's beaker, I urnvely tumbled the liquor from tlie one vessel to the other. Again the wine came level with the brim, a thin chain of ruddy beads stringing the very line of the wooden edge. "Ay, ay," said Eedbeard, i me. " I give honest and full be the little gentleman will the night is out." " Fill his tankard and let us see to that, Monsieur Zi " answered Henry. " Here's a toast, friend ; success to the King." " Success to the King ! " answered l*ierre Salces as he set down his empty beaker ; " but, perched as we are between Philip and Henry, which King, messire ? '" " What ? " said I, " is not this Navarre ? " " By the saints, messire," replied he, " this is no- man's- land, or the land of the strongest arm, which you will." " But the laws are the laws of Navarre ? " "The laws are the laws of Navarre, France, Spain, or the Popedom," answ red he, banging his vessel on the bench ; " that hi' who can take, takes ; and he who can keep, keeps." Then he plunged his tankard into the crock, and drawing it out dripping full, cried, " My toast, MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSi and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 1^ 128 m I 4.0 Z5 2.0 1.8 ^ APPLIED l^yHGE 1653 EosI Main Street Rochester, New York U609 USA ("6) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288-5989 -Fax Inc 'i^ I il! 174 A KING'S PAWN. messire. To the laws of The liafs Hole, and God send us a quiet to-morrow ! " "A proper toast," answered Heniy, filli„„ his measure in his turn; "and, for the time, the" laws of The Uats Hole please me well enoucrh" Though they both set down their beakers empty H was the last of their deep draughts. So far it had been the sharp onslaught of thrust and parry a tryn>g, as it were, of the adversary's temper a Saugmg of his powers and endurance. Thence- forward it was rather the wary fence of men who by ts effects ! I speak not now as to its potency in druggmg or ma,Ideni„g the brain, though some will grow owhsh or a fool with what will no more than qurcken another man's wit, but rather of its lighter effects. This one will sing, that one grow sullen, the other amorous, maudlin, quarrelsome obst„,ate, spendthrift, cautious, reckless. There is not a vein of good or evil hidden in all the deep complexd^ of nature but in one man or another w.ne wdl open it up, though, to be honest, it is einefiy the evd that comes to the surface. As for Pierre Salees, he ran through half the gamut of human ra,?,5ion3. THE king's wager. 175 Hole, and God nry, filling his time, the laws snough." beakers empty hts. So far it ust and parry, iry's temper, a nee. Thence- e of men who weary the foe ind to write a igs-on to filthy 3rdid and des- wherewith we vine varies in its potency in agh some will will no more rather of its hat one grow quarrelsome, s- There is n.11 the deep n or another honest, it is ace. As for ^e gamut of With the dregs of his fifth tankard his tongue loosened ; tags of meaningless talk, snatches of song, amorous and bacchanalian, all poured out as if h'o sat alone at the soaking of a solitary drinking- bout, and kept his heart merry with the sound of his own voice. Then he turned moody, blinking at us malevolently, and sucking down his wine in sullen silence. But not for long: as the wine got second wind of him and double heated his brain, his tongue took afresh to wagging. Dark boasting hints of his own powers, ^shifting into coarse vituperation, until at last he roundly cursed the King for a presumptuous popinjay in matching himself at anything, but more especially at a (Irinking-bont with such a man of parts as Pierre Salces. Then in his exultation he grew so foul- mouthed that De Montamar took him by the collar and swore that if he did not mend his langua-e he would thrust him head foremost into his* own wine crock and so stop his tongue, wager or no wawer. That silenced him, for he was coward at bottom for all his hulking bulk, and thenceforward he sat mouthing and muttering, and drinking down his liquor in great gulps, so that all that was needful was to fill his beaker and let him drink himself (Irunk at his own pleasure. It may be that some will cry out upon us for false play, but let these remember that the wager was no more than a pre- tence; and surely when the man's folly and thirsty 176 A king's pawn. i f; : i humour opened up a door of safety, there was no need that the King should degrade himself for a spurious nicety of honour: as to the ten crowns, they remained in Eedbeard's poucli, as it was in- tended from the first they should. Once only were we interrupted. In the silence that followed De Montaraar's firm protest the door between the two rooms creaked, and, in the slit of darkness, two white faces appeared, staring, open-mouthed, out at us like masks of terror. But Pierre Salces was sober enough to know whom he might safely curse, and at the oath he spat out upon them the vision faded in a swift eclipse. As to the King, he played him fairly move for move so long as the bestial soul of the fellow had sense in it, humouring him with all tlie wily skill of i practised court hand; soothing, spurring, praising, belittling, curbing, egging, as the occasion needed, so that, in all his wild twists of moodiness, his mind was ever turned back to the business afoot. Nor was this a light thing to do, for time and again the man's suspicions were alert to take offence, and it was nothing but the King's ready tact tliat kept him from seein,^ t he was seU- ing himself for nought ; nor, until tne swaying head dived forward on the bencli, with a crash, was I sure that the wit of Henry of Navarre had saved fron^ death the heir of France. *■ 177 CHAPTER XIV. AND WHAT CAME OF IT. ^OR a cime we sat silent, watchino- the fellow's shoulders 5hake and heave in his stertorous breathing ; but pre- sently the Kin- pushed back the settle, and rose to his feet, "The rest is your affair, De Bernauld," said he; "take what precaution you think fit, but, for my part.' T think we shall sleep undisturbed." " First, then," answered T, "we must have this hog to bed, lest he waken in the night, and set the house ablaze in his owlishness." " Trust him to sleep sound ! " replied the Kin-, rubbincr his forehead roughly with the fiat of his hancr;' " my own head hums like a hive, and had he driven me to the bottom of another tankard I had been as great a fool as himself, and so taken to sin<^in«T— ' Notre Damo, du Iwut dii pont, Aidez-mni a cette henre ! ' Let him be ; he will snore these ten hours." But I would not. The women's talk of his reckless was in my mind, and for all that we were four I Imd no wish that a madman, still half-soddeu tempi to 178 A KINGS PAWN. and his brain afire with the lees of drink, should let himself loose, baresark, upon us, when by handing him over to the care of the women wo might count on a night's quiet. Therefore I bade Marcel rap at the door, and rouse them. Nor had he long to wait for an answer. With a quickness that hinted at an uneasy watchfulness the door was opened, and the transition from frank terror to unrestrained relief as they saw Pierre Salces log- drunk, and prone against the bench, told a sorrowful tale. They had made no change in their dress, and at once both bustled forward ; nor was the old witch provident in the expression of her satisfaction. " The saints in their goodness grant it's a sound soaking," cried she, in a shrill whisper. "A sober man's any man's man, a drunk man's no man's man, not even his own self ; but a man half-drunk is the devil's soul and body. We're thankful to ye, gentles, that ye did your work so well; and," she added, with a hardening of her voice that told of smothered resent- ment, " maybe you've more cause to be thankful than we have. The soaked hog ! Let us get him to bed Marie." " Tut, tut, mother, we will see to that," said Henry, good-humouredly ; " to drag such a weight as his is beyond your withered strength." But the slur on her decayed powers nettled her. " I'd have you know," she snarled, striking her staff wrathfuUy on the floor, "that what you call my withered strength has many a time dragged a better man than AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 179 rink, should let )y handing him ght count on a eel rap at the swer. With a atchfulneas the m frank terror rre Salces log- •Id a sorrowful heir dress, and 3 the old witch action. t it's a sound er. "A sober 10 man's man, P-drunk is the to ye, gentles, J added, with a )t]iered resent- thankful than ;et him to bed, J," said Henry, sight as his is lettied her. iking her staff 11 my withered tter man than you a longer journey than from here to a night s bed ; ay, and may again, if the saints be good to us. As for him, take him an' you will ; I luive no love for hand- ling drunken beasts." "Would you have said 'drunken beast' an hour ago, and him listening," said Marcel slirewdly. " Nay ; and why should I," she snapped, " seeing he was sober then. But, your pardon, gentles"— and the shrill wrath died away in a whine— " I mean no offence, but my old tongue runs faster than my will at times, and many a brown l)ruise it has earned me." Suiting the action to his wo#ds, the King had seized Pierre Salces by the shoulders, and drawn him back, so that the helpless head rolled round like that of a slaughtered sheep, while De Montamar had caught him by the feet. As they lifted liim between them we formed a procession, and truly no soldier, dead on the field of honour, could have had a more noble atten- dance than this swinish rogue of a cut- throat inn- keeper—the heir of France and a Montamar of Arros as bearers, with Blaise de Bernauld to play linkman ! Except for its size, the sleeping-room was the counter part of that we had left. At the farther end was the same deep fireplace, and the windows were identical ; but there was no bench in the centre, and in one corner was spread a broad mattress, over which a coarse blanket was thrown. Beyond this, and running from the back wall to the middle of the room, was a wattle screen which, f suppose, hid the elder woman's sleeping-place. Of furnishing there was little, but above the head 180 A king's pawn. i il of the mattress a woodman's axe hung by leather thongs. The women entered first, T next, lanter*. in hand, and on my heels came De Montamar bearing Eed- beard's feet, with as ill a grace as was possible in a kindly man. Back in the darkened room we had left Marcel was groping in the corner for the ladder. It was then that a thing occurred which, small as it was in itself, I have never forgotten. Stepping back from tlie line of march, I took no heed where I walked. The floor was clear of hind- rances, and that was enough for me. But, suddenly, the younger woman turned upon me fiercely, and grip- ping my arm, with a strength which miglit have been a man's pride she ilung me staggering back. " Have you no heart in you that you stand on blood ?" said she, gasping, and pressing the other hand liard against her bosom. For a moment, in my bewilderment, I gaped, and did no more ; then, half mechanically, lowered the lantern to the floor. There, sure enougli, was a broad, brown stain, rough edged, and with veins from it like streams trickling from a central pool. " Blood ? " said I stupidly, for the abruptness of it confounded me ; " blood ? " " Ay," she wailed, wringing her hands ; " blood of my heart, and yet you trample it under foot." "Give no heed to her chatter, messire," broke in the old witch, plucking at me from the other side as I still stood staring; "she's over-wrought. 'Tis the m AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 181 ng by leather iteri. in hand, bearing lied- I possible in a »m we had left he ladder. It small as it was 'ch, I took no clear of hind- l»ut, suddenly, cely, and ^rip- ^ht have been xck. find on blood?" ler hand liard I gaped, and , lowered the I, was a broad, IS from it like :"uptness of it Is; "blood of er foot." ire," broke in other side as ?ht. 'Tis the blood of the lamb I spoke of yonder. Have done, woman, have done, and see to thi.s man of thine. Saints ! how the pig snores ! " " I know, I know," answered the other ; " but when I saw his heavy boots stamping there, my heart went fair broken. I ask your pardon, messire, and I thank you, gentles, for troul)ling with such cattle as " "Ventre St Oris!" said the King, stopping her sliort, " he is a man of weight and substance it" ever there was one. Loosen his collar and have his boots off, and I'll wager Navarre against Spain he will not so much as turn on his elbow before morning. And remember this, dame, if the churl wakens and grows outrageous, you have a voice in your throat, and we are not far away, you understand ? With your leave, though, we will take the lantern. As you may have perceived by this time, wo are not men to be left in the dark." With a significant nod he led the way back to the common room. There we found Marcel slowly clank- ing his way up the ladder he had thrust through the gaping square hole in the ceiling. Him we followed with all speed, for the hour was late, and then ;set ourselves with all our skill of defence to guard agaii^st surprise. Drawing our stairway after us, we angled it against the great door at the back, jamming the upper end against the edges of the heavy cross-piece that topped the panels, while the lower we pushed below the side of the mattress assigned to De Montamar. That secured 182 A king's pawn. I L' our rear, since who-so drove in the door must needs waken the sleeper. As to the flanks, by which I mean the doors at either end, these we found secured with the same mock show of honest bars, but with doors ready to swing at a tomh. Here the distance from the hill was only four feet, and there had been a levelling of the slope so that to cross was no more than a step. But there were no corbels, and as the doors hung flush with the perpendicular of the wall they seemed to me intended for escape rather than attack. These we secured with wedges, and having dragged a mattress above eacli closed trap-door we held that we might sleep in peace and without a watch. To me was assigned the post of drowsy sentinel above the family room, while Marcel stretched liis lean length on tlie bed that guarded the kitchen trap. Even though all this is long in the telling, and dry in the reading, it is needful to a right understanding of what befell later on, therefore I make no excuses for its length. That we slept as dreamlessly as only babes and tired men can sleep is no marvel. No marvel, either, that I was the first who woke. The King and De Montamar were as yet happily short of that alert middle age upon which responsibility weighs like a pack on a pedlar's back. As to Marcel, the affair was none of his. Let the others treat him as they might, he was no leader of men. His business was to serve and obey, and when live-and-sixty has lived m AND WHAT CAME OF IT- 183 )r must needs I, by which I found secured ))ars, but with } the distance lere had been was no more Is, and as the ir of the wall e rather than :!, and having trap-door we ad without a st of drowsy ircel stretched I the kitchen lliug, and dry Linderstandinu e no excuses ly babes and narvel, either, <^ing and De of that alert veighs like a !el, the affair him as they business was ay has lived I i a hard and healthy life it is glad enougli to fdl up its full measure of sleep. With me it was dillerent. This freak of the King was to me life and deatli, the setting of botli faith and nation as upon a turn of the dice, and the burden of it weiglied on me like a millstone even in sleep. Therefore, when 1 awoke it was to that nimble sense of watchfulness which in an unaccustomed place is bed-fellow to every man of affairs. To such a one the transition from dreamless stupor to heedful vigihuice is no more than a tick of time, and my awakening had none of that dim voluptuous sense of rest and ease which is the crowning of a quiet slumber. The hour I could do no more than guess at, but the sun was high and cloudless ; for here and there, through chinks and knot-holes, yellow shafts of ligiit shot level from wall and roof, and the wliole chamber was aglow with a mellow haze. The great rear gate and the Hanking doors were fast closed, and in their several places my three comrades were stretclied like so many figures of the dead. All that I gleaned in the first swift look round as I lay propped upon my elbow. But to the ministry of sight was joined the ministry of hearing, and before -nv eyes had made the circuit of the garret I knev. ihat I was not the only one awake in The Rat's Hole. From beneath me came the gruff and grumbling rumble of a dead level mono- logue — speech that suppressed itself and yet would not be silent. Not question and answer, for there I Hi A KINGS PAWN. wa8 no variation in thu pitcli of voico ; n.t soliloquy, for there was no intermission, no break in the steady flow of words. Kising on my knees, I stepped cautiously from my bed with naked feet, and lifting up the mattress in my arms, as one might a truss of straw, laid it gently aside, making neitlier creak nor rustle. Then grasping the iron ring which served as handle to the door, I warily opened the trap three or four inches, and again kneeling set my ear to the crack. That there are many who, for such an act, will denounce one as spy, eavesdropper, and what not, 1 know ; but a wiser than these has said, " IJe not righteous overmuch." There are times when a nuin must pouch his niceties, and this was one of them. We were, so to speak, in the enemy's country, and had aught hap- pened to the King it would have been a poor answer to bereaved Navarre that in a question of his saving I had set my own small honour against the nation's weal. That the thing went against the grain I grant, and had the talk been the common talk of wife and husband I had closed the trap as gently as I had opened it, and taken myself to my bed again. But the first words held me, and that I might listen the better I thrust my boot-toe into the open «pace and craned lower. It was the elder woman who spoke. " Ay, groan my man, groan ; truly thou hast cause ; only for thy life's sake groan softly, lest the folks AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 185 above j,'row curious. Lei lliem but get wind ol' thy nights hauuiwoik and tliou art shent. Tliuy would hung tliee, for sure, hang tliee, and witli thine own porcli for a gidlows ; and tlien who would give n»e bite and sii)) in what yon fool called my withered age, and keep a roof over nie ! Withered age ! quotha; by the .saints my withered age is like to see thy sajjpiness nought but bones ! Why the plague didst thou medille with drink ? Had the stain yonder no tongue to bid thee keep sober ? Saints ' What a blow, what a blow ! Thou wert drunk ( ay, I know, and 80 have a word to say on that. Thou wert drunk, and so did what thou didst do. Harken to me now, Pierre Salces, and hearken well, for all that there is a buzz in thy brain. Let me but see thee so nmch as grow drowsed with wine, and there will be an end of thee. You may curse, you may curse, but life's life, and no sot's madness '11 send me to my grave before my time ; there's fair warning." While she spoke, I had slowly turned back the trap so that at last the hole gaped its widest, and with every inch of greater space the sharp weak voice waxed clearer and clearer, until in the end it shrilled out like the high-pitched note of a llutc. What I saw, as I bent forward, was this : Hunched up upon the bed, his folded arms on his crooked knees, and his head upon his arms, was Redbeard, one puffed cheek showing wliite in the anojle of an elbow. By him, leauin'' <.