The Chevalier d'Auriac Part 9

'Her reins were in the wind when I caught her; a fair prize of war, and M. de Rone will never need her more. Since I got her she has saved me twice, and if I can help it we shall never part.'

He stroked the mare's sleek neck, wet and glistening with the dew, and, quickly mounting, swung her round to the bit and laid her beside me. It was not the time for talk, and we drew out of the clearing in single file, and, after forcing our way through the wet and s.h.i.+ning leaves around us, found a bridle path. Along this my guide went at a trot. On either side of us the silent tree trunks stretched to an infinite distance in gloomy colonnades. Overhead, the boughs swayed and shook sadly; below, the dry leaves hissed and crackled. Once, when we had slackened pace for a moment, the sullen groaning of an old and very savage boar came to us, and we heard him grinding his tusks in his lair of juniper. At another time we surprised a number of deer in an open glade, and, startled by our sudden appearance, they dashed off with a wild rush into the forest, and then all was still. Beyond the glade the roadway widened, so that two might keep abreast, and down this we went at a gallop, to find ourselves once more in the endless aisles of the forest, pa.s.sing through a ghostly light that barely enabled the horses to pick their way in and out amongst the huge moss-grown trees standing in measureless numbers around us, and where each pace took them fetlock-deep into the carpet of wet and withered leaves. Amidst the creaking of the boughs overhead, and the churn of the leaves at our feet, we rode on, nose to tail, Nicholas leading the way with unerring certainty. What his thoughts were, I knew not; but as I looked at the square outlines of the figure before me I could not but feel pity for this man, reduced to such a condition. True, the life of a common soldier was not such as to make a man squeamish about many things, but the ex-sergeant had always struck me as being a man of a different stamp to the generality of his fellows, and it was a thousand pities to see him forced to be a rogue; de Gomeron had truly much to answer for. But if I could I would mend this matter.

I had done too little good in the world to neglect the opportunity that seemed to present itself to me, so as we went on I weaved a little plan to give the man another start in life. I had already a rough idea when I parted with those gold pieces to Marie, but pulled all the threads together as we rode along, fully resolving to give my plan effect as soon as the business I had in hand was done. And of this business I could not hope much. We were going straight into the lion's mouth, as it were, for, whether de Gomeron held the King's commission or not, he had twenty lances at his back at Anet; and who on earth would question him if a crop-eared thief and his companion were slain. Besides, even if we were not discovered, I could see no way of laying hold of the tail of the conspiracy by floundering through a measureless forest at night, and finally skulking round the castle like a homeless cat. I half began to repent me of the whole affair, and to wish that I had tossed the venture up and down a trifle more in my mind before I embarked upon it. At the worst, however, perhaps it meant nothing more than a night in the forest, and, the next day, a tired horse and man. On the other hand, there was, or rather is, such a thing as luck in the world, and did I make a discovery of any consequence my hand would be much stronger.

Perchance, indeed, I might be a.s.sured of success, and then--other things might happen. Whilst I was thus ruminating, Nicholas suddenly pulled up, and held out a warning hand.

'What is it?' I asked in a low tone.

'_Hist!_' he said, and then in a rapid whisper, 'another fifty yards and we come to the open. Anet lies before us, and the rest of the way must be done on foot.'

'And the horses?'

'Fasten them here. You have a picketing rope?'

'Yes--round the neck of the horse.'

'Good; I had not noticed it before, and was half afraid you had none, monsieur.'

The horses were soon securely fastened, and, when this was done, Nicholas spoke low and earnestly: 'Should we be discovered, monsieur, there is no use making a standing fight. The odds are too many. When we come to the open I will show you a withered oak. This is exactly opposite where the horses are--in this direction. If we are pursued, make for the forest, and lie down. The chances are they will pa.s.s us by. Then to the horses and follow me. If I go down--ride northwards for your life.'

'How the devil am I to find my way through the trees?'

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'That was my affair.'

We had gone too far to go back, however, and placing my pistols in my belt, and loosening my sword in its sheath, I followed Nicholas with cautious footsteps. As he said, in about fifty yards we came to the open, and halted close to a huge oak, bald of all leaves, with its gnarled trunk riven and scarred by lightning. Before us a level stretch of turf sloped gently down towards what was once an ornamental lake, but now overgrown with the rankest weeds. In the centre of the lake was a small island, on which was set a summerhouse, fas.h.i.+oned like a Moorish kiosque, and beyond this arose, huge and square, the enormous facade of the chateau. It was in darkness except for an oriel window above a long terrace on the east wing, which was bright with light, and in the courtyard below there was evidently a fire. Men were singing around it, and a lilting chorus came to our ears.

Nicholas pointed to the window, then looked at the priming of his wheel lock pistol and whispered hoa.r.s.ely, 'We must keep in the shadow, monsieur. Stay--this is the tree; you cannot mistake it, and now come on. Be careful not to trip or stumble, and, above all, do not cough.'

No worse warning than the latter could have been given to me, and I all but choked myself in my efforts to restrain an almost uncontrollable desire either to sneeze or cough. Luckily, I managed to hold myself in. Inch by inch we crept onwards, keeping well in the shadow, and edging our way round the frills of the forest. I could hear Nicholas breathing hard, and from time to time he stopped to rest; but I was a glad man to find I was not winded, and that therefore I must be truly as strong again as ever I was. At last, by dint of creeping, crawling, and wriggling along, we worked our way to within twenty paces of the terrace, above which the stained gla.s.s of the oriel window glowed with light. Here we came to a stop and watched. Sometimes we saw a shadow moving backwards and forwards in the light of the window, then the shadow was joined by another, and both stopped, as if the two men to whom they belonged were in earnest converse. The merriment from the courtyard was unceasing, and whatever may have been the dark plots weaving upstairs, below there was nothing but the can and the catch.

'We must get to the window,' I whispered with an inquiring look.

'By the terrace,' said Nicholas in answer, and as he spoke there came to us the faint but distinct sound of a horn, apparently from the very depths of the forest, and the notes roused a brace of hounds in the courtyard, who bayed into the night. Nicholas gripped my arm, and I turned to him in surprise. His face was pale, he was shaking all over like an aspen, and his black eyes were dilated with fear.

'Did you hear that, monsieur?' he said thickly.

'_Diable!_ What? I hear three different things--dogs, men, and someone blowing a horn.'

'Then you did hear it--the horn?'

'Yes. What of it? No doubt a post on its way to Anet.'

'No post ever rang that blast, monsieur. That is the Wild Huntsman, and the blast means death.'

As he spoke it came again, wild and shrill with an eerie flourish, the like of which I had never heard before. The dogs seemed to go mad with the sound, there was a hubbub in the courtyard, and someone in the chamber above the terrace threw open the sash and peered out into the night. I thought at first it was de Gomeron; but the voice was not his, for, after looking for a moment, he gave a quick order to the men below and stepped in again. As for Nicholas, he seemed beside himself, and I had to hold him by main force by my side, or he would have broken and fled.

'_Diable!_' I said, 'sit still, fool--see, there are a couple of hors.e.m.e.n gone in search of your Wild Huntsman, who has been so nearly spoiling our soup. They will occupy him at any rate--sit still.'

The men rode by us slowly, one of them carrying a torch, and, turning to the right, trotted off into the forest, cursing the orders they had received to go forth after the horn-winder. As they pa.s.sed, I began to breathe more freely, for had they gone to the left it was an even chance that they would have discovered our horses, owing to one of the beasts neighing, a danger always to be guarded against in an ambuscade. In a minute or so Nicholas, too, began to get more composed, and seeing this I determined to p.r.i.c.k him into anger, for then he would fear nothing.

'Pull up, man,' I said; 'your ears lie beyond that pane of gla.s.s. Do you not want them back?'

He put his hand up to the side of his head with a muttered curse, to which de Gomeron's name was linked, and I saw that he was better.

'Now,' I whispered, 'for the window.'

'We must get to the terrace,' he answered. 'From there it might be done.' And with a hurried look behind him, at which I began to laugh in a low tone of mockery, he crawled forward rapidly. I followed with equal speed and caution, and in a half minute we had gained the shadow of the terrace, and, working along its ivy-covered wall, got to the main building. Here we cast about for some means to get up. It was not possible to do this by holding on to the ivy, as if it came away there would be a fall and all our fat would be in the fire. The ascent had to be made noiselessly, and, as I looked at the high wall before us, I began to think it was impossible. Running my eye on the lichen-grey face of the main building, however, I noticed something that looked like a series of huge monograms, with a crescent above each, cut in high relief on the stones, beginning about ten feet from the ground.

'We might get up that way,' I whispered.

Nicholas nodded, with a pale face. In his excitement he had forgotten the Wild Huntsman, much to my satisfaction.

'Bend then, and I will ascend from your back.'

He leaned forwards against the wall, and climbing on to his shoulders, I found that I might possibly raise myself by the monograms, which I discovered to be the letters H. D. interlaced in one another, the initials of the second Henry and Diane de Poitiers; and the crescent was, as is well-known, Madame Diane's crest. Taking a long breath, I lifted myself slowly--there was but an inch or so to hold on to--and at last found a crevice in which I could just put the point of my boot. This was enough for me to change my hold to the next higher monogram, and finally I came to a level with the parapet of the terrace. Here there was a difficulty. Every time I stretched my hand out to grasp the parapet I found that I could not reach over, and that my fingers slipped off from the slime and moss on the stones. Three times I made the attempt, and swung back three times, until I began to feel that the effort was beyond me. There was, however, one chance, and quietly thrusting my boot forward, I began to feel amidst the ivy for a possible foothold, and, to my delight, found it rest at once on a small projecting ledge that ran round the terrace. The remainder of my task was easy, and the next moment I found myself lying flat on my face beneath the oriel window.

Here I paused to recover myself, peering down at Nicholas, who was making an attempt to raise himself by his hands to reach the monograms and climb to me. 'Steady,' I whispered, 'and catch this.' Rapidly unwinding a silken sash I wore round my waist, in the fas.h.i.+on I had learned when serving in Spain, I dropped one end towards him, and after an effort or two he managed to seize it. Then I looped a fold of the silk round a b.u.t.tress of the parapet, and, holding on to the other end, told Nicholas to climb, and as the sash tightened suddenly, I cast up a prayer that it might not break. It was, however, of Eastern make, and one may have hung a bombard to it with safety. I heard Nicholas breathing hard, and once or twice the ivy rustled more than it ought to have, but at last his head appeared over the parapet and he too was beside me. A moment after we saw the flash of a torch in the forest and heard the voices of the men who had gone forth returning, and then three instead of two hors.e.m.e.n appeared, riding towards the main entrance.

'There, Nicholas, is your Wild Huntsman. Are you satisfied now?'

And he hung his head like a great dog that has been detected in something wrong.

'Now for the window,' I said. 'I will rise slowly and find out what I can. You keep your pistol ready and your eyes open. Do not rise, and remember my orders.'

'There is a broken pane to the left; it is half-hidden by the curtain.

You can hear and see from there.'

As he said this I rose softly to my feet, and finding the broken pane without any difficulty, peered in.

The room was bright with the light of candles, and at a table covered with papers were seated two men, whilst a third was standing and pointing with his fingers at a scroll. In the man with his back to me I had no difficulty in recognising de Gomeron. The one looking towards me was a.s.suredly Biron, for his was a face that once seen could never be forgotten. As for the man who was standing beside him, I knew him not, though subsequently--but I antic.i.p.ate.

Biron was evidently in a high state of excitement. He was biting at the end of his dark moustache, and the fingers of his hand were playing nervously with the star on his breast, whilst his s.h.i.+fty, treacherous eyes were turning now on de Gomeron, now on the figure standing at his elbow. He seemed to be hesitating, and I heard de Gomeron say:

'This is my price--not money, not land, not a t.i.tle, but only a few words. You have each one, my lord, your share of the spoils, set down in writing. I do not want so much even. All I ask is your word of honour to favour my suit with the King. For me the word of Biron is enough, and I know his Majesty can refuse you nothing.'

'My G.o.d!' exclaimed Biron, and writhed in his chair.

'The Marshal might give me the promise I seek, Lafin,' and de Gomeron turned to the man who was standing at Biron's elbow. 'The word will give me a wife--not much of a reward.'

'And the lands of Bidache and Pelouse, eh?'

I almost fell forwards in my eagerness to hear, and only checked myself in time.

'Exactly,' sneered de Gomeron. 'Do you think I have risked my life for the good of my health? See here, Chevalier,' and he bent forward and whispered a word or so that made the other pale, and then de Gomeron leaned back in his chair and smiled. Biron did not apparently see or hear. His forehead was resting on his clasped hand, and he seemed to be revolving the hazard of some great step. As for me, I thought I caught the words, 'your instant help,' followed by 'lances' and 'power,' and guessed--I was not wrong--that the captain had forced Lafin's hand.

'My dear de Gomeron,' he said, 'the Marshal is willing enough, but you know the common talk, that the King has other views for Madame, and that M. d'Ayen----' But Biron interposed:

'M. de Gomeron, you ask too much. Madame de la Bidache is of the first n.o.bility. Tremouille was my friend. It is too much.'