CHAPTER XI. THE PIOUS MONKS OF ST. BERNARD.
Tom knew quite well that he was being followed. He had been awareof it almost from the first. He felt an exultant triumph in thethought that they had outwitted the astute Sir James, and that hisemissaries were following the wrong man, falling into the trapwhich had been laid for them.
Tom's business was to lead them as long a dance as possible. He hadno other object in view. He had no intention of pushing onwardsinto Italy. In a strange country, surrounded by people of a strangetongue, he would be perfectly helpless. He had picked up just a fewwords of French, and of the patois of these mountain regions,enough to enable him to obtain the necessaries of life on this sidethe Alps. And on this side he meant to remain, doubling back, ifpossible, and eluding his pursuers; hoping to find shelter at themonastery of the Great St. Bernard, and await there the return ofLord Claud.
He had watched, before starting himself, the start made by LordClaud upon the arm of the landlord. He had again admired themarvellous powers of his master in simulating sickness. It wasdifficult even for him to believe that he was not the victim ofsome grave malady; and he had noted with satisfaction the coverteagerness with which the other travellers in the hut urged upon himthe descent into the valley as the only chance of recovery.
Plainly they desired that the two should part company; nor couldTom trace that any of their number went after Lord Claud. But onthat point he could not be certain, as he himself had to take hisdeparture almost immediately.
The other travellers professed to be waiting for the recovery ofone of their number from a strain to the ankle before proceeding inan opposite direction. This they explained to Lord Claud,regretting they could not accompany him to the valley, as they hadto wait for their own master. They professed to have crossedrecently from the Italian side, and gave Tom some hints andinstructions as to his route; which he heeded no whit, being infact only able to understand a word here and there.
He trusted to his guide to take him safely through the pass, thoughhe reckoned upon having to give him the slip, too, if he could notexplain to him that he was going to make his way to the monastery.For it was not safe for Lord Claud to explain this to the guidebeforehand. Although to all appearances an honest and simplefellow, there was never any knowing how the enemy might seek totamper with him; and a bribe might be sufficient to open thefellow's lips if he had anything to tell.
Now Tom was on his way upwards amid the snow, stepping out boldly,and rather urging on his guide than detaining him by lagging; andall the while he was conscious that he was being followed andwatched, although it was only from time to time that he wassuccessful in catching sight of the forms of his pursuers, who atpresent kept a good way behind.
Tom guessed for one thing that his own rapid pace gave him theadvantage, and he also suspected that they would prefer to waituntil his first energy had abated before trying conclusions withhim. He was in splendid condition from his long journey, which hadbraced all his muscles, and had given him back all that vigourwhich his London life had slightly impaired.
So he stepped along gaily in the clear morning air, calculating aswell as he could what Lord Claud's movements would be, and how farhe would have progressed upon his way with the real despatches.
Lord Claud never let grass grow under his feet. If he once obtaineda fair start, he would not easily lose it. The route by which hewas going was a little longer and more circuitous; but let him havea day's clear start, and it would be odd if any pursuer caught himafter that.
So Tom walked on in high spirits, feeling well equipped for thecoming struggle, and fearing little the peril which might liebefore him. In the pride of his manhood's strength, he laughed atthe thought of danger. He had faced too many perils of late tobegin to turn coward now. So long as he felt that he was leadingthese followers away from the other pass to be taken by hiscomrade, he cared for nothing else--not even for the discovery heonce made that they were three in number, though Lord Claud hadcalculated that they would only be two.
Sometimes Tom noted that his guide would look back, and more thanonce he fancied that he detected him signalling to those below.This aroused in his mind a doubt of the fellow's fidelity; butthere was nothing to be done now. They were in the midst oftrackless snow plains, ice slopes, and precipices. He must perforcetrust to the leading of the guide, albeit, if he had been tamperedwith by those in pursuit, things might look ugly when it came tothe moment of attack.
As the hours wore away, Tom began to wish that the situation mightdeclare itself. The drear wildness of the mountain height oppressedhim with a sense of personal insignificance which was ratheroverwhelming. The great white mountains seemed to stare down uponhim as though pitilessly indifferent to his fate. How could theycare what became of one solitary son of earth? Did they not standfast for ever more, from century to century? It was a thought thathe found oppressive and rather terrible.
At one point the guide insisted upon leaving what looked like thebetter track, and led him round a sort of shoulder of piled up snowand rock, where walking was very laborious. Tom began to feel theneed of food, and would have stopped and opened his wallet; but theman shook his head and gesticulated, and seemed to urge him onwardsat some speed. Tom supposed he must obey, as the man pointedwarningly to the rocks above, as though to hint that danger mightbe expected from them.
So on they trudged, Tom feeling a slight unaccustomed giddiness inthe head, as many persons do who first try walking for some hoursin the glare of sun and snow and at a high altitude. Then the pathsuddenly turned again under the frowning wall of rock, which roseblack and stern through the covering of snow. The guide disappearedround the angle of the path; Tom followed with quick steps, and thenext moment was almost felled to the earth by the terrific blow ofa cudgel upon his head.
Almost, but not quite. He had been on his guard. He felt that thecrisis was coming, and he was certain that the guide had betrayedhim at this pre-arranged spot into the hands of his enemies. In onesecond Tom's rapier was out (he had carried that in spite of thehindrance it had sometimes been to him), and although he washalf-blinded and half-stunned by the force of the blow received, helunged fiercely forward, and heard a yell of pain which told himthat his blade had found its billet.
But the blade could not at once be disentangled. For two seconds,perhaps, was Tom struggling with it; and in those two seconds oneof his adversaries sprang behind him, and seized him round thewaist with the hug of a bear.
In a second Tom had whipped out his pistols, and fired full at adark figure in front of him; but his eyes were full of blood, and ataunting laugh told him that his shot had missed its mark. With aquick movement of his strong arm backwards he dealt the man who washolding him a terrific blow with the butt of the pistol, anddischarged the other full at another dark figure looming in front.
This time there was an answering yell; but the odds were stilltremendous, and Tom felt himself growing faint and giddy, andthough he hit out lustily on all sides, he had no confidence thathis blows told.
Every moment he expected to hear the sound of a report, and to knowthat his quietus had come; but at last he was aware that it was hiscaptors' wish to take him prisoner, and not to kill him. They hadclosed in upon him now that he was disarmed, and were using everyartifice to overpower him without further injury.
Tom felt his own struggles becoming weaker each moment, and at lasthe was conscious that somebody had crawled towards his feet and waspassing a cord about them. In vain he sought to kick out andrelease himself; the next minute the cord was pulled tight. Hisfeet were jerked from beneath him, he fell backwards heavily, andfor some time he knew no more.
When he opened his eyes once again, he found himself sittingpropped up against the rocks, his arms tightly pinioned to hissides, and his feet still encumbered by cords; whilst at a littledistance sat his assailants in a ring, eating and drinking, andmaking merry together.
One had a bandaged head, and another had his arm in a rude sling.But the guide had
come in for the worst of Tom's blows, and lay allhis length along the ground, stiff and dead.
Tom smiled a grim sort of smile. He suspected that the same fatewould shortly be his, but nevertheless he did not pity theunfaithful peasant. If he had acted loyally by the man he professedto serve, this ill would scarcely have befallen him. He had met hispunishment somewhat more swiftly than is usual.
The men talked in French, and too fast for Tom to catch a word oftheir meaning; but when they saw that his eyes were open, and thathe was watching them, they laughed and nodded at him, and by-and-byone brought him food and a cup of wine, and Tom felt mightilyrefreshed thereby.
Then they looked up at the sky, and at the sun which had some timesince passed its meridian, and began to make ready to depart. Tomwas half afraid at first that they, having robbed him of hisdespatches, were going to leave him helplessly bound here amongstthe snow, to perish of cold and starvation. But when they were allin readiness they unbound his feet, and bid him rise and come withthem. Indeed, he had no option in this matter, for one of them heldthe end of the cord which bound his arms, and drove him on in frontas men drive unruly cattle.
Tom felt giddy and stiff, but he scorned to show weakness; and itwas less trying to descend the pass than to ascend it, although therough walking with tightly-bound arms was more difficult than hehad fancied, and several times he tripped and fell heavily, unableto save himself.
He was, therefore, very bruised and sore and weary when at last hefound that they were approaching the little hut he had left earlythat same morning. But amid all his weariness and pain, and theperil of his position, he felt, with a thrill of proud satisfaction,that he had at least played the part which had been allotted to him,and had drawn off the forces of the enemy whilst Lord Claud madegood his escape with the real despatches. Whatever vials of furymight quickly be poured upon his head, he would always know thathe had done his duty--and who can do more than that?
A light was twinkling in the hut. Tom was pushed and hustledwithin. A voice, that he remembered as having heard once before,called out from above:
"Bring the prisoner up here to me."
The next minute Tom entered the very room where he and Lord Claudhad slept the previous night; but it was now tenanted by a newoccupant--a dark-skinned man of huge frame and malignantaspect--who regarded Tom from beneath the penthouse of his frowningbrows, and plainly remembered him as well as he was himselfremembered.
"So we meet again, my young buck of the forest! You seem to serve amaster who takes pleasure in bringing you into peril and doubtfuladventure! So you are the bearer of despatches to the Duke ofSavoy? I fear, my good friend, Victor Amadeus will be disappointedof his news for once. And I say in good sooth, that if his grace ofMarlborough chooses to intrust the matters of the secret service tounfledged lads, he deserves to find himself outwitted."
Tom compressed his lips to hide the smile that might have told toomuch. He preserved a stolid appearance, and remained mute.
Sir James gave a quick order in French, and at once some of thecords about Tom's person were cut, and the packet sewed up in hiscoat was duly brought forth. As it was handed to Sir James and hesaw the signet of the Duke, a sardonic smile played over hisfeatures, and Tom's eyes gleamed in their sockets.
The dark-browed man eagerly undid the packet, and drew forth theparchment sheet. He scanned it over and over; he turned it this wayand that. His face betrayed nothing, but Tom saw that his fingerstrembled slightly as with ill-veiled excitement or anger.
He gave one fierce, searching look at Tom, who preserved an air ofindifference, and then he took the paper across to the stove, andheld it in the heat of the glow which stole thence.
Back he came with it to the table; but there was nothing revealedby the application of heat. He called sharply for something to oneof his men, and a small phial was brought to him. He applied a dropof the liquid it contained to the parchment; and eagerly awaitedthe result; but no lettering was revealed upon it, and his facegrew dark and stern.
How many tests he applied Tom scarcely knew; but he saw that thisman was master of all the arts of secret penmanship, and that nomatter would have been kept from him had it been intrusted to thepaper.
At last Sir James became satisfied of this himself. The veins onhis forehead swelled with anger. He saw that he had been tricked,and his fury was hotly aroused.
Smiting his great hand upon the table, he cried in a voice ofthunder:
"This despatch is a trick and a fraud. There is nothing but a sheetof blank paper. Men do not risk their lives in carrying dummypackets.
"Where is the true despatch, knave? Out with it, or 'twill he theworse for you!"
"That is all I have," answered Tom quietly; "I know nothing of anyother. Search me if you will. You will find naught else."
"Search him! search him well!" said Sir James to his servants,almost panting in his ire. "The knave was never sent to the Dukewith nothing hut this in his keeping. Find it instantly! I love notthese delays!"
Instantly Tom was laid on his back upon the floor, and such asearch was made of his dress and person as was a matter ofcuriosity and amaze to himself. Even his nose and ears and mouthwere explored by rough fingers, in a fashion none too gentle;whilst his clothing was well-nigh ripped to pieces, and he wonderedhow he should ever make it fit for wear again. Certainly if he hadhad any missive to carry it would not have escaped the scrutiny ofhis captors, and their oaths and kicks bespoke their baffleddisappointment.
"Then he has messages intrusted to him," said Montacute, first inFrench, and then in English. "Set the fellow upon his feet, andbind fast his hands to yon rafter. If he will not speak the truth,it shall he flogged out of him!"
The swarthy man was growing very angry at his failure. He may havebegun to suspect that he had been duped by a wit keener than hisown, and the thought raised within him the demon of cruelty andlust of blood. He hated Lord Claud with a deadly hatred, havingbeen worsted by him in encounters of many kinds. If unable to wreakhis vengeance upon the man himself, to do so upon his follower wasthe next best thing.
"Tell me with what messages to the Duke of Savoy you are charged!"he cried, standing before Tom with flaming eyes. "You are not sentupon this quest with neither letter nor word. Speak, or you shallbe made to find your tongue!"
"I will speak as much as you like," answered Tom, with haughtydisdain in his tone, though his flesh crept at the sight of the menknotting the ends of rope in their hands; "but I am charged with nomessage. I know nothing of what you would wish to know. You canflog till you are weary, but you can't get out of me what I do notknow. That at least is one satisfaction."
Montacute waved his hand. The next moment the ropes descended uponTom's bare back. He set his teeth, and made no cry, though theblood came surging to his head, and the room seemed to swim inblood. Again and again they descended; but the keen pain awokewithin Tom that ferocity of strength which comes to men in theirextremity, so that, like Samson, they can turn the tables upontheir foes.
The hut was but a rude affair, somewhat loosely put together. Thebeam to which Tom's arms had been bound was not too stronglyjointed to its fellow.
A sudden madness seemed to come upon this man of thews and sinews.He gave a sudden bound and wrench; he felt the beam give, andredoubled his efforts; the next moment the whole rafter came bodilydown upon their heads. Tom ducked, and escaped its fall; but itpinned one of his foes to the ground, and his own hands wereimmediately free.
With a bound like that of a tiger, and a roar like that of awounded lion, he sprang, or rather flew, at Montacute, flung himover backwards upon the floor, and pinned him by the throat,uttering all the while a savage sort of growling sound, like a wildbeast in its fury.
The light was thrown over in this strange melee; the room wasplunged in darkness. The two men upon the floor lay strugglingtogether in a terrible silence, only broken by Tom's fiercesnarlings, that seemed scarce human. So terrified were theremaining two men, that they could do nothing for
the assistance oftheir master; indeed, they hardly knew what was happening to him.They set up a shouting for aid, half afraid to stir lest the wholehouse should come falling about their ears.
There were steps in the room below. Footsteps mounted the stairs.The door was thrown open, a shaft of light streamed in, and a calm,full voice demanded in the French tongue:
"What, in the name of all the saints, is this?"
"Holy father, he is murdering our master!" suddenly cried one ofthe men, recovering from his stupor of terror, and seeing now howTom's great hands were gripping the throat of Sir James.
Montacute's face was purple. His eyes seemed to be starting fromtheir sockets. It was hard to say which was the more terrible face,his or that of Tom, which was perfectly white, and set in lines offerocity and hatred as though petrified into stone.
In the doorway stood the figure of a tall monk, clad in the longwhite robe and black cloak of his order. Behind him was another,similarly attired, holding the light above his head.
The first stepped quietly forward, and laid a hand upon Tom'sshoulder; and something in the touch made the young man turn hishead to meet the calm, authoritative glance bent upon him.
"Enough, my son, enough," he said, in quiet tones, that brooked,however, no contradiction. "Let the man go."
Had the followers of Montacute sought to loose his clasp by force,Tom would have crushed the life from his victim without a qualm;but at this gentle word of command he instantly loosed his hold,and stood upright before the monk.
"He drove me to it--his blood be upon his own head! He would havescourged me to death, I verily believe, had it not been that therafter gave way."
Tom spoke English, for he had been addressed in that language, andso knew that he should be understood. The monk bent his head, asthough he grasped the entire situation.
"I would we had come in time to spare you what you have alreadysuffered, my son. But we did only enter the doors as the fall ofthe rafter announced that some catastrophe had happened. I fearedto find you already a corpse."
"You came after me, good father?" asked Tom in amaze.
"Yes, truly. Your companion, who is safe over the other pass bythis time, caused the message to reach us that you were like tofall into the hands of Montacute, and be hanged or shot. He beggedthat if we could we would save you; and as our work lies insuccouring those who are in peril upon these heights, be that perilwhat it may, we have been seeking you ever since. I would we hadarrived a few minutes earlier."
Tom's eyes gleamed; it seemed to him as though the madness was notyet out of his blood.
"I can scarce echo that wish, reverend father," he said; "for Ihave had my taste of joy! If my back be torn and scored, I have hadmy fingers on yon miscreant's throat. I think he will carry themarks of them as long as I shall carry my scars. I have had myrecompense!"
"Peace, my son," said the monk, lifting his hand. "The heart of thenatural man lusts after vengeance; but these passions are terrible,and contrary to the will of God. Especially in these savagesolitudes, with the strange and awful handiwork of the AlmightyCreator about us, should we bow in humblest adoration of Hisinfinite power, and draw near and close, in bonds of brotherhood,to our fellow men. But I know that the sin was not yours. You weresinned against sorely first. Nevertheless, we must needs learn toforgive our enemies, and do good to those that persecute us. Soalone can we follow in the steps of Him who is set as the light ofthe world."
Tom hung his head. He was a little abashed at the fury he hadshown, and yet the savage joy of it was still tingling in hisveins. He looked at the other monk, who was kneeling upon the floorbeside Montacute, and he perceived that the latter was slowlyrecovering, and was able to sit up, propped against the wall.
As soon as he was able to understand what was said to him, theelder monk addressed him in stern tones.
"Montacute--thou man of blood--be warned by the fate which thycruelty well-nigh drew down upon thy head this day! If God in Hismercy had not sent us, in the very nick of time, to save this youthout of thy murderous hands, thou wouldst have passed ere now to thescathing fires of purgatory, whence there be few to offer prayersfor thy release. Be warned by this escape. Repent of thybloodthirstiness and cruelty. Seek to make atonement. Go and sin nomore, lest a worse thing happen unto thee."
Then turning from him with a slight gesture of repulsion, he saidto Tom:
"My son, we would take you to the safe shelter of our monasteryhome, till your comrade comes for you. The way is something hardand long, but the moon and frost will help us. Have you thestrength to walk with us?--for we would not leave you here, and itwould be safer for all to travel without delay; albeit there be fewso vile as to seek to do hurt to those who wear the habit of theservants of the Lord."
The fire yet burned in Tom's veins. He felt no abatement of hispowers. He declared himself well able for the march, and was soonhelped into his torn garments, with wet rags to protect hisbleeding back from rough contact. The monks gave him to drink froma flask that contained some cordial, which was marvellous insubduing his natural fatigue; and there was a mess of brothawaiting him below, of which both he and the monks partook, eresetting forth upon their moonlight march.
As for Montacute and his followers, they remained in the roomabove, and made no effort to delay the travellers. They had beenworsted at every point, and seemed to be aware of it.
It was a strange experience for Tom, this trudge over the hard,frozen snow, with his two cowled and gowned companions. It seemedto him afterwards like a vision of the night, full of a strangeoppression and pain. He started forth with undiminished strength,as he thought; but ere long he felt as though leaden weights werefastened to his feet, as though some strange, uncanny beast wereseated upon his chest, impeding his breathing, and paralyzing hisheart. The smart of his raw back became more and more intolerablewith every mile, and the awful whiteness of the moon upon thelimitless plains of snow seemed to make the whole expanse reel anddance before his giddy eyes.
How the last part of the journey was performed, and what befell himwhen he reached the monastery, he never afterwards remembered. As amatter of fact, he was already in the grip of a burning fever; andfor weeks he lay sick upon his pallet bed, tended by the kindlymonks. Indeed, the spring had penetrated even to those ruggedheights ere he had recovered strength enough to think of travellingonce more; and Lord Claud had come to seek him, and bring him wordof his own successful journey with the despatches of the Duke.
When Lord Claud had gone stumbling down the hillside, in affectedillness, he soon found, rather to his dismay, that Montacutehimself was following him. He therefore abandoned his intention ofseeking battle with his foe, knowing that in brute strength andweight and muscle his adversary was his superior; and he had goneto the inn and put himself to bed, letting all around him believethoroughly in his illness. Montacute had remained on the watch fora time; but finding, as he supposed, that there was no feigning inthe matter, he had gone back to his appointed meeting place withthe men sent after Tom. He had paid a fellow to keep watch uponLord Claud, and send immediate word if he recovered and left hisbed; but this man was one of those whose hearts had been won byLord Claud's pleasant manners, and he at once reported the matterto him, and asked what he should do.
Between them it was arranged that they should change clothing, and,with the connivance of the landlord, should exchange identities.The young peasant should lie in bed, and be tended as the sickstranger; and Claud, in peasant's dress, should flee over the otherpass, leave word with the monks as to the peril of his friend, andmake his way to Savoy with all the speed he could.
This had been done with wonderful ease and celerity. And now,having accomplished all with unlooked-for success, he had returnedto find Tom not only alive, but in good condition; for the latter,having once got rid of the persistent fever which had brought himso low, was getting back his strength and vigour every day. Themountain air was now acting like a tonic upon him, and the kindlyministrations of the brothers
of the monastery gave him every helphis condition needed. Even the scars upon his back had ceased tosmart, and he was all but fit for the road and the saddle ere LordClaud joined him again.
His lordship had heard good tidings of the horses in the valleybelow. And when rested from his rapid journey in search of Tom, hewent to visit them, and reported them abundantly fit for the road.
But the war had now been resumed, and the countries were all incommotion. Travelling was a risky thing, save in numbers; and thegood monks warned them that they might easily lose their lives byfalling in with some bands of hostile soldiers, who were sure tofall upon travellers in ferocious fashion, and rob them of arms andhorses, if not of life itself.
Soon, however, some of the monks themselves were to take a journeyinto France, and if the travellers would habit themselves in thecowl and gown, and travel with them, they could do so in almostcertain safety. Tom's shaven head lent itself excellently to thetonsure; and though Lord Claud objected to part with his goldentresses, he quickly manufactured himself a tonsured wig whichalmost defied detection. As the monks, too, were to travel onhorseback for greater speed, they had but to teach their steeds toamble along at a gentle pace, and none would be likely to suspectthem.
So the day came when the parting was made, the travellers leavingbehind their earnest thanks for kindness received, and taking withthem the blessings of their hosts, who had come to love the twogallant young men right well.
They turned their backs upon the monastery, and wound their waydown into the green valley, where horses were awaiting all theparty; and then they turned their backs upon the ice and snow, andset their faces towards sunny England and home.