The Path of the King Part 15

"Patience," said Gaspard, his eyes hard as stones. "Cursed be he that putteth his hand to the plough and then turns back."

They pa.s.sed several small bodies of Catholic horse, which they greeted with cheers. That was in the Rue des Poulies; and at the corner where it ab.u.t.ted on the quay before the Hotel de Bourbon, a ferret-faced man ran blindly into them. Gaspard caught him and drew him to his horse's side, for he recognised the landlord of the tavern where he had supped.

"What news, friend?" he asked.

The man was in an anguish of terror, but he recognised his former guest.

"There is a band on the quay," he stammered. "They are mad and do not know a Catholic when they see him. They would have killed me, had not the good Father Antoine held them till I made off."

"Who leads them?" Gaspard asked, having a premonition.

"A tall man in crimson with a broken plume."

"How many?"

"Maybe a hundred, and at least half are men-at-arms."

Gaspard turned to Champernoun.

"We have found our quarry," he said.

Then he spoke to his following, and noted with comfort that it was now some hundred strong, and numbered many swords. "There is a Huguenot band before us," he cried. "They wear our crosses, and this honest fellow has barely escaped from them. They are less than three score. On them, my gallant lads, before they increase their strength, and mark specially the long man in red, for he is the Devil. It may be Navarre is with them."

The mob needed no second bidding. Their chance had come, and they swept along with a hoa.r.s.e mutter more fearful than any shouting.

"Knee to knee, Gawain," said Gaspard, "as at St. John d'Ulloa. Remember, Petrucci is for me."

The Italian's band, crazy with drink and easy slaying, straggled across the wide quay and had no thought of danger till the two hors.e.m.e.n were upon them. The songs died on their lips as they saw bearing down on them an avenging army. The scared cries of "The Huguenots!" "Montgomery!"

were to Gaspard's following a confirmation of their treachery. The swords of the bravos and the axes and knives of the Parisian mob made havoc with the civilian rabble, but the men-at-arms recovered themselves and in knots fought a stout battle. But the band was broken at the start by the two grim hors.e.m.e.n who rode through it as through meadow gra.s.s, their blades falling terribly, and then turned and cut their way back.

Yet a third time they turned, and in that last mowing they found their desire. A tall man in crimson appeared before them. Gaspard flung his reins to Champernoun and in a second was on the ground, fighting with a fury that these long hours had been stifled. Before his blade the Italian gave ground till he was pinned against the wall of the Bourbon hotel. His eyes were staring with amazement and dawning fear. "I am a friend," he stammered in broken French and was answered in curt Spanish.

Presently his guard weakened and Gaspard gave him the point in his heart. As he drooped to the ground, his conqueror bent over him. "The Admiral is avenged," he said. "Tell your master in h.e.l.l that you died at the hands of Coligny's kinsman."

Gaspard remounted, and, since the fight had now gone eastward, they rode on to the main gate of the Louvre, where they met a company of the royal Guards coming out to discover the cause of an uproar so close to the Palace. He told his tale of the Spanish Emba.s.sy and showed Guise's jewel. "The streets are full of Huguenots badged as Catholics. His Majesty will be well advised to quiet the rabble or he will lose some trusty servants."

In the Rue du Coq, now almost empty, the two hors.e.m.e.n halted.

"We had better be journeying, Gawain. Guise's jewel will open the gates.

In an hour's time all Paris will be on our trail."

"There is still that priest," said Champernoun doggedly. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were light and daring. Like all his countrymen, he was slow to kindle but slower to cool.

"In an hour, if we linger here, we shall be at his mercy. Let us head for the St. Antoine gate."

The jewel made their way easy, for through that gate Henry of Guise himself had pa.s.sed in the small hours. "Half an hour ago," the lieutenant of the watch told them, "I opened to another party which bore the Duke's credentials. They were for Amiens to spread the good news."

"Had they a priest with them?"

"Ay, a Jacobin monk, who cried on them to hasten and not spare their horses. He said there was much to do in the north."

"I think the holy man spoke truth," said Gaspard, and they rode into open country.

They broke their fast on black bread and a cup of wine at the first inn, where a crowd of frightened countrymen were looking in the direction of Paris. It was now about seven o'clock, and a faint haze, which promised heat, cloaked the ground. From it rose the towers and high-peaked roofs of the city, insubstantial as a dream.

"Eaucourt by the waters!" sighed Gaspard. "That the same land should hold that treasure and this foul city!"

Their horses, rested and fed, carried them well on the north road, but by ten o'clock they had overtaken no travellers, save a couple of servants, on sorry nags, who wore the Vidame of Amiens' livery. They were well beyond Oise ere they saw in the bottom of a gra.s.sy vale a little knot of men.

"I make out six," said Champernoun, who had a falcon's eye. "Two priests and four men-at-arms. Reasonable odds, such as I love. Faith, that monk travels fast!"

"I do not think there will be much fighting," said Gaspard.

Twenty minutes later they rode abreast of the party, which at first had wheeled round on guard, and then had resumed its course at the sight of the white armlets. It was as Champernoun had said. Four l.u.s.ty arquebusiers escorted the Jacobin. But the sixth man was no priest. He was a Huguenot minister whom Gaspard remembered with Conde's army, an elderly frail man bound with cruel thongs to a horse's back and his legs tethered beneath its belly.

Recognition awoke in the Jacobin's eye. "Ah, my lords of Spain! What brings you northward?"

Gaspard was by his side, while Champernoun a pace behind was abreast the minister.

"To see the completion of the good work begun this morning."

"You have come the right road. I go to kindle the north to a holy emulation. That heretic dog behind is a Picard, and I bring him to Amiens that he may perish there as a warning to his countrymen."

"So?" said Gaspard, and at the word the Huguenot's horse, p.r.i.c.ked stealthily by Champernoun's sword, leaped forward and dashed in fright up the hill, its rider sitting stiff as a doll in his bonds. The Jacobin cried out and the soldiers made as if to follow, but Gaspard's voice checked them. "Let be. The beast will not go far. I have matters of importance to discuss with this reverend father."

The priest's face sharpened with a sudden suspicion. "Your manners are somewhat peremptory, sir Spaniard. But speak and let us get on."

"I have only the one word. I told you we had come north to see the fruition of the good work, and you approved. We do not mean the same.

By good work I mean that about sunrise I slew with this sword the man Petrucci, who slew the Admiral. By its fruition I mean that I have come to settle with you."

"You...?" the other stammered.

"I am Gaspard de Laval, a kinsman and humble follower of Goligny."

The Jacobin was no coward. "Treason!" he cried. "A Huguenot! Cut them down, my men," and he drew a knife from beneath his robe.

But Gaspard's eye and voice checked the troopers. He held in his hand the gold trinket. "I have no quarrel with you. This is the pa.s.sport of your leader, the Duke. I show it to you, and if you are questioned about this day's work you can reply that you took your orders from him who carried Guise's jewel. Go your ways back to Paris if you would avoid trouble."

Two of the men seemed to waver, but the maddened cry of the priest detained them. "They seek to murder me," he screamed. "Would you desert G.o.d's Church and burn in torment for ever?" He hurled himself on Gaspard, who caught his wrist so that the knife tinkled on the high road while the man overbalanced himself and fell. The next second the mellay had begun.

It did not last long. The troopers were heavy fellows, c.u.mbrously armed, who, even with numbers on their side, stood little chance against two swift swordsmen, who had been trained to fight together against odds.

One Gaspard pulled from the saddle so that he lay senseless on the ground. One Champernoun felled with a sword cut of which no morion could break the force. The two others turned tail and fled, and the last seen of them was a dust cloud on the road to Paris.

Gaspard had not drawn his sword. They stood by the bridge of a little river, and he flung Guise's jewel far into its lilied waters.

"A useful bauble," he smiled, "but its purpose is served."

The priest stood in the dust, with furious eyes burning in an ashen face.

"What will you do with me?"