The King's Esquires Part 38

The King walked onward like one well accustomed to traverse the place, and in another few minutes the great candle his follower bore was casting the dwarf shadow upon the heavy door that blocked the end.

"A false clue, Hurst," said the King gruffly. "The secret of this place is still our own.--No, by my faith!" he almost roared. "The light, man--lower--and look here!"

For there, plain to see, was the ring of a heavy key in the lock of the ma.s.sive door, and as the King seized the latch and raised it with a click, the door swung inward easily upon its well-oiled hinges, followed by a puff of the soft night air, which would have extinguished the light had not the King hastily closed the door again.

"Gone, and by this way!" he growled, as he turned the key, sending the bolt with a sharp snap into the socket. Then with a sharp tug he drew out the s.h.i.+ning wards and signed to his follower to return.

Lord Hurst uttered a low sigh of relief, for he felt that the King had escaped a terrible danger, the loss of the jewel being as nothing to his life.

He backed slowly, lighting the way, till they were about half-a-dozen yards from the door, when he stopped short and raised the light on a level with a little horizontal niche close to the roof of the pa.s.sage, into which the King thrust the key.

"There has been treachery here, Hurst," he said sombrely, "for a stranger would not be likely to have found that key. Simple hiding-places are often the most safe. But there," he growled, with a suppressed oath; "back into the corridor, but extinguish that light before you raise the arras, and make sure that we are alone."

The order was obeyed, the chamberlain cautiously listening, before going down upon one knee to raise the tapestry a few inches from the floor and make sure that Carrbroke was the only occupant of the great gallery, then creeping quickly out, holding the hangings upward for the King to pa.s.s, and securing the door.

"Now," cried the King furiously, as he brought one foot down with a heavy stamp, "the villains may be still within the grounds. Guard!

Guard!" he roared, with a voice almost as deep as that of a raging bull; and as footsteps were almost directly heard, the enraged monarch turned upon his chamberlain and furiously bade him have the soldiery summoned and the place well searched, while many minutes had not elapsed before the alarm bell was sending its vibrating notes with a deep hum through the night air, and room and corridor echoed with the sounds of excited voices and trampling feet.

It was in the midst of the orders that were being given by King and courtier that the clas.h.i.+ng sound of arms and shouts of angry men came from the gate and guard-room, to be followed by the news of the encounter and the visitors' escape.

And then it was as if a storm was raging through the castle, set in agitation by the bluff King, who played the part of thunder G.o.d himself, ending by stamping and raging about the outer court animadverting upon the sluggishness of his guards, till the strong body of hors.e.m.e.n who formed his bodyguard of mounted archers stood drawn up, ready, with their arms and armour flas.h.i.+ng in the light of scores of flambeaux, waiting for the final order thundered forth at last by the King himself, to spare not their spurs, but ride due south and bring back the culprits alive or dead.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

SOMEBODY'S WOUND.

As if to aid the fugitives' escape, the moon, which had been s.h.i.+ning brightly the greater part of the evening, had become overclouded almost from the minute they set off, and headed by the King, who bent low over the pommel of his saddle, and at the start had seemed to drive his spurs into his horse's flanks, the little party tore over the darkened road at a furious pace, no one uttering a word.

The King led; that was sufficient for two of the party, who set their teeth and gave the horses their heads, merely taking care to rein up slightly as every now and then they came upon some terribly untended piece of the road.

"The King leads," thought the two young men, "and all we have to do is to keep close at his heels, ready if wanted, and for France."

Saint Simon was one who thought little and said less. They had had an exciting charge, mastered those who opposed them, behaved like gentlemen of France, and that was enough.

But as Denis galloped on with the wind coming cool and pleasant to cheeks fevered by the excitement that he had pa.s.sed through, picture after picture flitted through his brain, dominated by that in the stable entry when he had felt his rapier glide through his adversary's neck.

Had he killed this man? something seemed to ask him again and again.

Then came the strong feeling of dissatisfaction as imaginary pictures took the others' place, ill.u.s.trating the breaking open of the cabinet and the stealing of the jewel--imaginary so far as he was concerned, for no communication as to this having been accomplished had been made to him. But he took it all for granted, and though he had taken no active part in the theft--for theft his conscience persisted in calling it--the base action pressed upon him more and more, in spite of his combating it with declarations that it was an act of warfare to regain the King's own, and that it was for France.

At last as they galloped on with their horses following their natural instinct and keeping closely together as in a knot, the trouble, the worry became almost unbearable.

"Oh, if something fresh would only happen--something exciting!" Denis muttered. "I could then bear it better."

At last a thought flashed through his brain, and he started, rose a little in his stirrups, and began looking about him.

"Are we going right?" he said to himself, and he looked straight ahead now--beyond Francis, who was slightly in advance, he being on the King's left, while Leoni's horse galloped level with his own, the beautiful animal's head being almost within touch of the King's saddle upon the right.

But all was dark and cloudy, and he could make out nothing.

"The King leads," he muttered, "and what the King does is right."

Thinking this to himself, Denis rode on, perfectly unconscious of the fact that he who rode on his right was vastly troubled too, and regardless of everything else kept one eye fixed upon his liege, for he had noticed that Francis was not riding according to his wont.

He was generally upright in his saddle, and he had never seen him bend low before like this.

At first he comforted himself with the thought that it was all due to excitement and the dread of being captured after this nefarious act; for gloze it over as he would, the subtle Franco-Italian knew in his heart that though it might be for reasons of State, and to ensure the stability and future of his King, the scheme was vile. Then, too, there was all that had taken place that night, the peculiar semi-trance-like state in which the King had seemed to be plunged. There was the draught, too, that had been taken, and its effects before he had grasped the King's wrist and had led him, a pa.s.sive instrument in his hands, to where the cabinet stood in the obscurity of the gallery, and had him standing there, partic.i.p.ator of that which had followed, but in a half unconscious condition the while.

Once or twice after coming to the conclusion, and owning to himself that the state of Francis was due entirely to the draught he had administered, Leoni started nervously in his saddle, for the King had suddenly given a lurch as if partly unseated; but he regained his balance on the instant, and muttered angrily at his horse for stumbling.

They rode on now at a hand gallop, their horses' hoofs beating heavily upon the road, but not drowning the King's voice, as every now and then he made his horse lay back its ears to listen to the rider's words, which at times came angrily and fast. But they were incoherent and strange, and it was only now and then that Leoni, on his right, and Denis, on his left, caught their import, always something about the hunt and losing their quarry.

It was just after one of these mutterings that the clouds were swept from the face of the moon, pa.s.sing onward like a vast black velvet curtain edged with silver, and leaving visible a third, later on a half, of the vast arch overhead, studded here and there with stars whose l.u.s.tre was paled by the effulgent moon.

And now it was that, after studying the sky overhead for some minutes to make sure, Denis could control himself no longer, and involuntarily exclaimed; "Are we going right?"

"What!" cried Leoni sharply, for the King paid no heed, but galloped on, muttering to himself the while.

"Are we going right?" repeated the lad.

"What do you mean, boy?"

"The road is straight, sir, and we are riding to the north. Should we not be making for the south?"

"Are you mad, boy? What do you mean?"

"Look, sir--the stars. That must be the Bear."

Leoni was silent for a few moments, breathing heavily the while, as they rode steadily on. Then the doctor's voice came in a low angry hiss:

"Yes, boy," he said, and his voice sounded like a harsh whisper, "we are upon the wrong road; but the Count led, and I thought of nothing but making our escape."

"Are we to rein in, sir? Will you not tell him at once?" whispered Denis, leaning towards him as near as he could get.

"No; we can do nothing now but gallop on. There is certainly pursuit going on hot foot behind us--somewhere," he added, after a slight pause; "and perhaps it is in the Count's wisdom that he has chosen this way, for if we were beyond earshot when pursuit commenced, the guard would naturally divine that we should be making for some southern port.

Perhaps all is working for the best."

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Denis excitedly, for Francis reeled again in his saddle, this time towards his young esquire, who spurred his steed level with the King's just in time to save him from falling headlong to the ground.

"Ah!" he muttered angrily. "This horse is going lame, and we shall be last. Poor broken beast, I have ridden him too hard, and--I like it not; I like it not."

"Master Leoni!" cried Denis excitedly, as the King recovered himself once more. "The Comte, sir--the Comte!"

"I know. I saw. Keep as you are now, as close as you can ride. I'll keep level on the other side. We must reach water somehow, and I will give him to drink. It is the excitement. He is ill."

"No, no, sir!" cried Denis wildly. "He is wounded."