Chapter 16: A Huguenot Prayer Meeting.
"That was a good shot, Pierre," Philip said, as they ran; "and hasprobably saved my life."
"I am accustomed to throw straight, sir. My dinner has frequentlydepended on my knocking down a bird with a stone, and it was notoften that I had to go without it.
"They are making a rare hubbub, back at the inn."
Loud shouts were heard behind them.
"We have plenty of time," Philip said, as he moderated the pace atwhich they had started. "The men will be confused at first, knowingnothing of what it all means. Then they will have to get the horsesout of the stables."
"And then they will have trouble," Pierre added.
"What trouble, Pierre?"
"I gave a hint to Eustace," Pierre said with a laugh, "that itwould be just as well, before he mounted, to cut off all thebridles at the rings. A nice way they will be in, when they go tomount!"
"Did you cut their bridles for them, Eustace?" he asked, as theycame up to the others.
"Ay, and their stirrup leathers, too, Pierre."
"Good, indeed!" Philip exclaimed. "Without bridles or stirrupleathers, they can scarce make a start; and it will take them someminutes to patch them up. We will ride hard for a bit. That willput us far enough ahead to be able to take any byroad, and throwthem off our traces. I have no fear of their catching us bystraight riding. The masters' horses may be as good as ours, butthose of the men can hardly be so. Still, they might come up to uswherever we halted for the night."
They looked back, when they were some two miles from the village,and along the long straight road could make out some figures thatthey doubted not were horsemen, just starting in pursuit.
"They waited to mend their leathers," Pierre remarked.
"They were right, there," Philip said; "for a man can fight butpoorly, without bridle or stirrups. The horses will not have beenfed, so we have an advantage there. I do not think we need troubleourselves much more about them."
"There is one thing, sir. They won't mind foundering their horses,and we have to be careful of ours."
"That is so, Pierre; and besides, at the first place they come to,they may send others on in pursuit with fresh horses. No, we mustthrow them off our track as soon as we can. There is a wood, a mileor so ahead; we will leave the road there."
They were riding on the margin of turf, bordering the road oneither side, so as to avoid the dust that lay thick and white uponit; and they held on at an easy canter, till they reached thetrees. Then, at Philip's order, they scattered and went at a walk;so as to avoid leaving marks that could be seen, at once, by anyonefollowing them. A couple of hundred yards farther, they came upon astream running through a wood. It was but a few inches deep.
"This will do for us," Philip said. "Now, follow me in single file,and see that your horses step always in the water."
He led them across the road, and on for half a mile. Then they leftthe stream and, soon afterwards, emerged from the wood and struckacross the country.
"I should think they will have had pretty well enough of it, by thetime they get to the wood," Philip said; "and at any rate, willlose a lot of time there. They will trace our tracks to the edge ofthe stream, and will naturally suppose that we will follow it up,as we struck it on the other side of the road. It is like enoughthey will be half an hour searching, before they find where we leftthe stream; and will know well enough, then, it will be hopelesstrying to catch us."
"They saw we had good horses," Eustace said; "for as we led themout, one of them made the remark that they were as good looking alot of horses as you would often see together. No doubt, at first,their leaders were so furious that they thought of nothing butmending the leathers and getting off; but when they get a check, inthe wood, it is probable that someone will venture to tell them howwell we are mounted, and that pursuit will be hopeless."
"Nevertheless, I think they will pursue, Monsieur Philip," Pierresaid. "They did not look like men who would swallow an injury, andthink no more of it. As long as there remains a single chance ofdiscovering you, they will not give up pursuit. Of course, theyhave no reason for suspicion that you are anything but what youseem to be, a gentleman of the neighbourhood; and will considerthat, at one or other of the towns or villages ahead of us, theyare sure to hear of our passing through, and perhaps to learn whoyou are and where you reside. Doubtless they asked at the inn,before starting, whether you were known; and as soon as they findthey are not likely to catch us by hard riding, they will makestraight forward, dividing into several parties at the next placethey come to, and scattering in order to obtain news of us."
"Which they will not get," Philip said, "as we will take good careto avoid passing through villages. For tonight we will sleep in thewoods, as the weather is warm and pleasant."
After riding another fifteen miles, they halted in a wood. Theyalways carried some food and wine with them, as circumstances mightat any time arise that would render it imprudent for them to put upat an inn; and each also carried a feed of corn for his horse.
Leaving Pierre to unsaddle and rub down his horse, Philip walked tothe farther edge of the wood, to view the country beyond. Theywere, he knew, not far from La Chatre; and he was not surprised tosee the town, lying in a valley, to which the ground sloped downfrom the wood. It was about a mile and a half distant. Nearer thewood, but half a mile to the west, the towers of a fortifiedchateau rose from a clump of trees. The country was rich and wellcultivated, and everything had an aspect of peace and comfort.
"What a hideous thing it is," Philip said to himself, "that in sofair a country people cannot live in peace together; and should flyat each other's throats, simply because they cannot agree that eachshall worship God after his own fashion! It might be Canterbury,with the hills rising round it and the little river, save that itlacks the cathedral rising over it; and yet, I doubt not there aremany there who live in daily peril of their lives, for there is nota town in France that has not its share of Huguenots, and they cannever tell when the storm of popular fury may burst upon them."
The shades of evening were beginning to fall, when he rejoined hiscompanions. They had already rubbed down their horses and replacedthe saddles, and the animals were contentedly eating their corn.
"They look well," Philip said, as he walked from one to the other.
"Yes, sir, they are none the worse for their travel so far, andcould carry us on a hard race for our lives. Shall we light afire?"
"I do not think it is worth while, Eustace. The evening is warm,and we shall be off at daybreak. Someone passing through the woodmight see the flames, and carry the news down to La Chatre, whichis but a mile and a half away; and it is quite possible that thosefellows we had to do with today may be there, if they aretravelling the same way that we are, and may consider it likely weshall halt there for the night. At any rate, as we do not need thefire, we will run no risks."
They ate their supper and, an hour later, wrapped themselves intheir cloaks and lay down. Philip was just dropping off to sleep,when Pierre touched him. He sat up with a start.
"There are some people in the wood," Pierre said.
Philip was wide awake now, and the sound of singing, at no greatdistance, came to his ears.
"It is a Huguenot hymn," he exclaimed. "There must be a meeting inthe wood. No doubt it is some of the people from the town, who havecome out to hold a secret meeting here. I will go and see it.
"Come with me, Pierre. We will go very quietly, for it would scarethem terribly, did they hear anyone approaching."
Making their way noiselessly through the wood they came, afterwalking about three hundred yards, to the edge of an open spaceamong the trees, where they halted. In the centre they could see,in the moonlight, a body of some seventy or eighty people gathered.Standing upon the trunk of a fallen tree was a minister who wasaddressing them.
"My brethren," he was saying, when they could catch his words,"this is the last time we shall meet here. We know that suspicio
nshave already arisen that we are holding meetings, and that we do soat the peril of our lives. The search for me has been hot, for somedays; and though I am willing enough to give my life in the causeof our Lord, I would not bring destruction upon you, at the presentmoment. Were the prospects hopeless, I should say, 'let us continuetogether here, till the last;' but the sky is clearing, and it maybe that, ere long, freedom of worship may be proclaimed throughoutFrance. Therefore it is better that, for a time, we should abstainfrom gathering ourselves together. Even now, the persecutors may beon our track."
"Pierre," Philip whispered, "do you go over in that direction,until you come to the edge of the wood. If you see any signs of menmoving about, run quickly to the others, and bring the horses uphere."
"I had better go back there first, had I not, Monsieur Philip, andbring the men and horses along with me to the edge of the wood? ForI might lose a quarter of an hour in searching for them."
"That would be the best plan, Pierre. Should you hear a suddennoise here, hurry in this direction, and I will come to meet you.It may well be that, guessing the Huguenots would place someone onwatch towards the town, the Catholics may, if they come, approachfrom the other side. Should you see anyone coming, give a loudshout, at once. It will act as a warning to these people, andenable them to scatter and fly, before their foes arrive."
For an hour the preacher continued to address his hearers,exhorting them to stand firm in the faith, and to await withpatience the coming of better days. They were not more than twentypaces away from the spot where Philip was standing, and in themoonlight he could clearly see the faces of the assembly, for thepreacher was standing with his back to him. From their dress, hejudged that most of them belonged to the poorer classes; thoughthree or four were evidently bourgeois of the well-to-do class.
Seated on the trunk on which the preacher was standing, and lookingup at him so that her profile was clearly visible to Philip, sat ayoung girl, whose face struck Philip as of singular beauty. Thehood of the cloak in which she was wrapped had fallen back from herhead, and her hair looked golden in the moonlight. She waslistening with rapt attention. The moonlight glistened on a brooch,which held the cloak together at her throat. A young woman stood byher; and a man, in steel cap and with a sword at his side, stood apace behind her. Philip judged that she belonged to a rankconsiderably above that of the rest of the gathering.
When the address had concluded, the preacher began a hymn in whichall joined. Just as they began, Philip heard the crack of a stickamong the trees. It was not on the side from which Pierre would becoming. He listened attentively, but the singing was so loud thathe could hear nothing; except that once a clash, such as would bemade by a scabbard or piece of armour striking against a bough,came to his ears.
Suddenly he heard a shout.
"That is Pierre!" he exclaimed to himself, and ran forward into thecircle.
There was a cry of alarm, and the singing suddenly stopped.
"I am a friend," he exclaimed. "I have come to warn you of danger.There are men coming in this direction from the town."
"My brethren, we will separate," the minister said calmly. "Butfirst, I will pronounce the benediction."
This he did solemnly, and then said:
"Now, let all make through the wood and, issuing from the otherside, return by a circuit to the town.
"Mademoiselle Claire, I will accompany you to the chateau."
At this moment Philip heard horses approaching.
"This way, Pierre," he shouted, and ran to meet them.
Fifty yards away he came upon them, and leapt into his saddle.
"See to your weapons, lads," he said. "I believe there are othersin the wood already."
He was within twenty yards of the clearing when he heard a suddenshout of:
"Down with the Huguenot dogs! Kill! Kill!"
He dashed forward, followed by his men. A mob of armed men, headedby two or three horsemen, had burst from the opposite side of theglade and were rushing upon the Huguenots, who had just broken upinto small groups.
They stood, as if paralysed, at this sudden attack. No cry orscream broke from the women. Most of these threw themselves upontheir knees. A few of the men followed their example, and preparedto die unresistingly. Some sprang away among the trees, and abovethe din the preacher's voice was heard commencing a Huguenot hymnbeginning, "The gates of heaven are opened;" in which, without amoment's hesitation, those who remained around him joined.
In a moment, with savage shouts and yells, their assailants wereupon them, smiting and thrusting. With a shout, Philip spurredforward from the other side. He saw at once that, against suchnumbers, he and his three followers could do nothing; but his rageat this massacre of innocent people--a scene common enough inFrance, but which he now for the first time witnessed--halfmaddened him.
One of the horsemen, whom he recognized at once as the man Pierrehad knocked down with the plate, rode at the girl Philip had beenwatching; and who was standing, with upturned face, joining in thehymn. The man attending her drew his sword, and placed himself inthe way of the horseman; but the latter cut him down, and raisedthe sword to strike full at the girl, when Philip shot him throughthe head.
Instantly another horseman, with a shout of recognition, rode athim. Philip thrust his still smoking pistol in his holster, anddrew his sword.
"This is more than I hoped for," his assailant said, as he dealt asweeping blow at him.
"Do not congratulate yourself too soon," Philip replied, as heguarded the blow and, lunging in return, the point glided off hisadversary's armour.
He parried again; and then, with a back-handed sweep, he struck hisopponent on the neck with his whole force. Coming out to take partin a Huguenot hunt, in which he expected no opposition, the knighthad left his helmet behind him; and fell from his horse, with hishead half severed from his body.
In the meantime the two men-at-arms and Pierre had driven back themob of townsmen; who, however, having massacred most of theunresisting Huguenots, were surging up round them.
"Give me your hand, mademoiselle, and put your foot on mine,"Philip exclaimed to the girl, who was still standing close to him.
"Pierre," he shouted as, bewildered by the uproar, the girlinstinctively obeyed the order, "take this woman up behind you."
Pierre made his horse plunge, and so freed himself from thoseattacking him. Then, reining round, he rode to Philip's side, andhelped the companion of the young lady to the croup of his saddle;Philip dashing forward, to free his two followers from theirnumerous assailants.
"To the left, Eustace;" and, cutting their way through the crowd,the three horsemen freed themselves and, as they dashed off, werejoined by Pierre.
"We must work back by the way we came, Monsieur Philip," Pierresaid. "There is another body coming up in front, to cut offfugitives; and that was why I shouted to you."
In a minute or two they were out of the wood. Men were seen runningacross the fields, but these they easily avoided.
"Now turn again, and make straight for La Chatre," Philip said. "Wecan cross the bridge, and ride through the place without danger.Those who would have interfered with us are all behind us."
As he had expected, the place was perfectly quiet. The better classof the bourgeois were all asleep, either ignorant or disapprovingof the action of the mob. As soon as they were through the town,Philip checked the speed of his horse.
"Mademoiselle," he said, "I am as yet in ignorance of your name. Iam the Chevalier Philip Fletcher, an English gentleman fighting forthe cause of the reformed religion, under Admiral Coligny. I am onmy way east, with important despatches; and I was bivouacking withmy three followers in the wood, when I was attracted by thesinging.
"Judging, from the words of the minister, that there was danger ofan attack, I put one of my men on the watch; while I myselfremained in the wood by your meeting place. Unfortunately, thesound of the last hymn you sang drowned the noise made by the partythat assailed you. However, happily we wer
e in time to save you andyour servant; and our sudden appearance doubtless enabled many toescape, who would otherwise have been massacred."
The girl had burst into a fit of sobbing, as soon as the danger wasover; but she had now recovered.
"My name is Claire de Valecourt, monsieur," she said. "My father iswith the Admiral. He will be deeply grateful to you for saving mylife."
"I have the honour of knowing the Count de Valecourt, mademoiselle;and am glad, indeed, that I have been able to be of service to hisdaughter. The count is one of the gentlemen who act as guardians tothe Prince of Navarre, whom I have also the honour of knowing.
"And now, what are your wishes? It is not too late even now, shouldyou desire it, for me to take you back to the chateau."
"I should be defenceless there, sir," she said. "There are but ascore of men-at-arms and, though formerly a place of some strength,it could not be defended now. See, sir, it is too late already."
Philip looked round, and saw a bright light suddenly rising fromthe clump of trees on which the chateau stood. He gave anexclamation of anger.
"It cannot be helped," she said quietly. "It is but a small place.It was part of my mother's dower. Our estates, you know, are inProvence. My father thought I should be safer, here, than remainingthere alone while he was away. We have always been on good termswith the townspeople here, and they did not interfere with those ofour religion during the last war; so we thought that it would bethe same now. But of late some people have been here, stirring upthe townsmen; and some travelling friars preached in themarketplace, not long since, upbraiding the people with theirslackness in not rooting us out altogether.
"A month ago, one of the persecuted ministers came to the chateauat night, and has been concealed there since. Seeing that therewill be no minister here for some time, word was sent roundsecretly, to those of our religion in the town, and twice a week wehave had meetings in the wood. Many of the servants of the chateauare Catholics, and of the men-at-arms, the majority are not of ourfaith. Therefore I used to steal out quietly with my attendant. Weheard, two days ago, that a rumour of the meetings had got about;and tonight's was to have been the last of them."
"And now, mademoiselle, what are your wishes? Have you any friendswith whom I could place you, until you could rejoin your father?"
"None near here, monsieur. I have always lived in the south."
"I should not have taken you for a lady of Provence," Philip said."Your hair is fair, and you have rather the appearance of one of myown countrywomen, than of one born in the south of France."
"I am partly of northern blood," she said. "My mother was thedaughter of Sir Allan Ramsay, a Scottish gentleman who took servicein France, being driven from home by the feuds that prevailedthere. I knew but little about her, for she died when I was achild; and my father, who loved her greatly, seldom speaks to me ofher."
Philip rode for some time in silence.
"I feel that I am a terrible burden on your hands, monsieur," shesaid quietly, at last; "but I will do anything that you think best.If you set us down, we will try and find refuge in some peasant'shut; or we can dress ourselves as countrywomen, and try to make ourway westward to La Rochelle."
"That is not to be thought of," he replied gravely. "Were it notthat my despatches may not be delayed, without great danger to ourcause, the matter would be of no inconvenience; but we must ridefast and far. As to leaving you to shift for yourselves, it isimpossible; but if we could find a Huguenot family with whom Icould place you, it would be different. But unfortunately, we areall strangers to the country."
"I can ride well," the girl said, "and if horses could be procuredwould, with my maid, try to reach La Rochelle; travelling by night,and hiding in the woods by day. We could carry food with us, so asnot to have to enter any place to purchase it."
Philip shook his head.
"We will halt at yonder clump of trees," he said. "It is not yetmidnight, and then we can talk the matter over further."
As soon as they halted, he unrolled his cloak.
"Do you, mademoiselle, and your attendant lie down here. We shallbe but a short distance away, and two of us will keep watch;therefore you can sleep without fear of surprise."
"This is an unfortunate business, Pierre," he said, after thelatter had fastened the horses to the trees.
"I can understand that, monsieur. I have been talking to the maid,and it seems that they have no friends in these parts."
"That is just it, Pierre. One thing is certain--they cannot ride onwith us. We must journey as fast as possible, and delicate womencould not support the fatigue; even were it seemly that a younglady, of good family, should be galloping all over France with ayoung man like myself."
"I should not trouble about that, monsieur. At ordinary times,doubtless, it would cause a scandal; but in days like these, whenin all parts of France there are women and children hiding from thepersecution, or fleeing for their lives, one cannot stand uponniceties. But doubtless, as you say, they would hinder our speedand add to our dangers."
"I see but two plans, Pierre. The one is that they should journeyto La Rochelle, in charge of yourself and Eustace. We have nowtwice crossed the country without difficulty and, as there would beno need of especial speed, you could journey quietly; choosingquiet and lonely places for your halts, such as farmhouses, orgroups of two or three cottages where there is a tiny inn."
"What is your other plan, sir?"
"The other plan is that you should start forward at once, so as toenter Saint Amboise early. Stable your horse at an inn; and orderrooms, saying that you are expecting your master and a party, whoare on their way to join the army. You might also order a meal tobe cooked. Then you could enter into conversation with stablemenand others, and find out whether there are any castles in theneighbourhood held for us by Huguenot lords, or by their wives intheir absence. If not, if there are any Huguenot villages. In fact,try and discover some place where we may leave the young lady insafety. You can have three hours to make your inquiry.
"At the end of that time, whether successful or not, say that youare going out to meet your master and lead him to the inn. Give thehost a crown, as an earnest of your return and on account of themeal you have ordered, and then ride to meet us.
"We shall start from here at daybreak. If you succeed in hearing ofsome place where, as it seems, she can be bestowed in safety, wewill take her there at once. If not, you and Eustace must startback with them, travelling slowly. The horses will carry double,easily enough.
"Do not forget to get a cold capon or two, some good wine, and asupply of white bread, while you are waiting in the town."
"Which horse shall I take, sir?"
"You had best take Robin. He is the faster of the two, though notquite so strong as Victor."
"I understand, monsieur, and will carry out your orders. If therebe a place within twenty miles--or within forty, if lying on theright road--where the young lady can be left in safety, rely uponit I will hear of it; for there is nought I would not do, ratherthan turn back at the outset of our journey, while you have tojourney on with only Roger, who is a stout man-at-arms enough, butwould be of little use if you should find yourself in difficulties;for his head is somewhat thick, and his wits slow."
Robin had already finished his scanty ration of food and, whenPierre tightened the girths before mounting, looked round in mildsurprise at finding himself called upon to start, for the secondtime, after he had thought that his work was done.
"You shall have a good feed at Saint Amboise," Pierre said, pattingits neck; "and beyond that, there will be no occasion, I hope, forsuch another day's work."
After seeing Pierre start, Philip threw himself down for two hours'sleep; and then went to relieve Eustace, who was keeping watch atthe edge of a clump of trees. As soon as it was broad daylight, hewent across to where Claire de Valecourt was lying down by the sideof her maid, with a cloak thrown over them. She sat up at once, ashis step approached.
"I am afraid
you have not had much sleep, mademoiselle."
"No, indeed," she said. "I have scarce closed my eyes. It will belong before I shall sleep quietly. That terrible scene of lastnight will be before my eyes for a long time. Do you think that theminister escaped, Monsieur Fletcher?"
"I fear that he did not. I saw him cut down, by the fellow I shot,just before he turned to ride at you."
"How many do you think escaped?"
"A score perhaps, or it may be more. Some fled at once. Others Inoticed make off, as we rode forward."
"Did not one of your men ride off, last night, soon after we laydown?"
"Yes, I sent off my servant."
And he told her the mission upon which Pierre had been despatched.
"That is a good plan," she said. "I would much rather hideanywhere, than that you should go forward on your long journey withbut half your little force. Does it not seem strange, monsieur,that while, but a few hours ago, I had never so much as heard yourname, now I owe my life to you, and feel that I have to trust toyou in everything? I am quite surprised, now I look at you--Iscarce saw your face, last night; and only noticed, as I sat infront of you, that you seemed very big and strong. And as youtalked of what I must do, just as if you had been my father, I havebeen thinking of you as a grave man, like him. Now I see you arequite young, and that you don't look grave at all."
Philip laughed.
"I am young, and not very grave, mademoiselle. I am not at all fitto be the protector of a young lady like yourself."
"There I am sure you are wronging yourself, Monsieur Fletcher. TheAdmiral would never have sent you so far, with importantdespatches, had he not full confidence that you were wise as wellas brave. And you said you were a chevalier, too. My cousin Antoinelooks ever so much older than you do, and he has not been knightedyet. I know young gentlemen are not made knights, unless they havedone something particularly brave."
Philip smiled.
"I did not do anything particularly brave, mademoiselle; but what Idid do happened to attract the Admiral's attention.
"Now, here are the remains of a cold capon, some bread, and wine.You and your attendant had better eat something, while we aresaddling the horses and preparing for a start."
Four hours later they halted, three miles from Saint Amboise;taking refuge in a wood near the road, where they could see Pierreas he returned. Half an hour later he rode up. Philip went down theroad to meet him.
"Well, Pierre, what success?"
"I have heard of a place where I think Mademoiselle de Valecourtwould be safe, for the present. It is the chateau of Monsieur deLandres. It lies some five-and-twenty miles away, and is in theforest, at a distance from any town or large village. It is a smallplace, but is strong. Monsieur de Landres is with the army in thewest, but he has only taken a few of his men with him; and forty,they say, have been left to guard the tower. As most of theCatholics round here have obeyed the king's summons, and are eitherwith the royal army in the west, or with the two dukes at Metz,there seems no chance of any attack being made upon Landres."
"That will do excellently, Pierre. No doubt the lady will be happyto receive Mademoiselle de Valecourt, whose father is a well-knownnobleman and, at present, in the same army as the lady's husband.At any rate, we will try that to begin with."
They started without delay and, riding briskly, reached Landres infour hours; having had a good deal of difficulty in finding theway. As soon as they issued from the forests into a cleared space,half a mile across, in the centre of which stood the fortalice, ahorn was heard to sound, and the drawbridge was at once raised.Philip saw, with satisfaction, that Pierre had not beenmisinformed. The castle was an old one and had not been modernizedand, with its solid-looking walls and flanking towers, was capableof standing a siege.
Halting the others, when halfway across to the tower, he rode onalone. As he approached, a lady appeared on the battlements overthe gate; while the parapet was occupied with armed men, withspears and crossbows. Philip removed his cap.
"Madame," he said, "I am a soldier belonging to the army of thePrince of Navarre, and am riding on the business of AdmiralColigny. On my way hither, I had the good fortune to save aHuguenot congregation, and the daughter of the Count de Valecourt,from massacre by the people of La Chatre. My business is urgent,and I am unable to turn back to conduct her to her father, who iswith the army of the prince. Hearing that you are of the reformedreligion, I have ventured to crave your protection for the younglady; until I can return to fetch her, or can notify to her fatherwhere he may send for her."
"The lady is welcome," Madame de Landres said. "In such times asthese, it is the duty of all of our religion to assist each other;and the daughter of the Count de Valecourt, whom I know byreputation, will be specially welcomed."
Bowing to the lady, Philip rode back to his party.
"The matter is settled, mademoiselle. The chatelaine will be gladto receive you."
By the time they reached the castle the drawbridge had beenlowered; and Madame de Landres stood at the gate, ready to receiveher guest. As Philip, leaping off, lifted the girl to the ground,the lady embraced her kindly.
"I am truly glad to be able to offer you a shelter, for a time. Youare young, indeed, to be abroad without a natural protector; for asI gather this gentleman, whose name I have not yet learned, rescuedyou by chance from an attack by the Catholics."
"God sent him to my succour, as by a miracle," Claire said simply."The Chevalier Fletcher is known to my father. Had he arrived butone minute later, I should be one among seventy or eighty who arenow lying dead in a wood, near La Chatre. My father had a chateauclose by, but it was fired after the massacre."
"And now, mademoiselle, with your permission, and that of Madame deLandres, we will ride on at once. We must do another thirty milesbefore sunset."
Madame de Landres, however, insisted on Philip and his men stoppingto partake of a meal before they rode on; and although they hadbreakfasted heartily, four hours before, upon the provisions Pierrehad brought back with him from Amboise, their ride had given theman appetite; and Philip did not refuse the invitation. Madame deLandres expressed much satisfaction on hearing that the Huguenotarmy was likely to pass somewhere near the neighbourhood of thechateau, on its way to effect a junction with the Duc deDeux-Ponts; and promised to send one of her retainers with amessage, to the count, that his daughter was in her keeping. Themeal was a short one; and Philip, after a halt of half an hour,mounted and rode on again.
"My father will thank you, when you meet him, Monsieur Fletcher. Asfor me, I cannot tell you what I feel, but I shall pray for youalways; and that God, who sent you to my aid, will watch over youin all dangers," Claire de Valecourt had said, as she bade himgoodbye.
They halted that night at a small village and, as Philip was eatinghis supper, Pierre came in.
"I think, monsieur, that it would be well for us to move on for afew miles farther."
"Why, Pierre? We have done a long day's journey, and the horses hadbut a short rest last night."
"I should like to rest just as well as the horses," Pierre said;"but I doubt if we should rest well, here. I thought, when we drewbridle, that the landlord eyed us curiously; and that the men whosauntered up regarded us with more attention than they wouldordinary travellers. So I told Eustace and Roger, as they led thehorses to the stable, to keep the saddles on for the present; and Islipped away round to the back of the house, and got my ear closeto the open window of the kitchen. I got there just as the landlordcame in, saying:
Pierre listens at the open window of the inn.]
"'These are the people, wife, that we were told of three hours ago.There are the same number of men, though they have no women withthem, as I was told might be the case. Their leader is afine-looking young fellow, and I am sorry for him, but that I can'thelp. I was told that, if they came here, I was to send off amessenger at once to Nevers; and that, if I failed to do so, myhouse should be burnt over my head, and I should be hung from thetree oppos
ite, as a traitor to the king. Who he is I don't know,but there can be no doubt he is a Huguenot, and that he has killedtwo nobles. I daresay they deserved it if they were, as the mensaid, engaged in what they call the good work of slaying Huguenots;which is a kind of work with which I do not hold. But that is nobusiness of mine--I am not going to risk my life in the matter.
"'Besides, if I don't send off it will make no difference; for theytold half-a-dozen men, before they started, that they would give agold crown to the first who brought them news of the party; and itis like enough someone has slipped off, already, to earn the money.So I must make myself safe by sending off Jacques, at once. The mensaid that their lords had powerful friends at Nevers, and I am notgoing to embroil myself with them, for the sake of a stranger.'
"'We have nothing to do with the Huguenots, one way or other,' thewoman said. 'There are no Huguenots in this village, and it isnothing to us what they do in other parts. Send off Jacques if youlike, and perhaps it will be best; but I don't want any fighting orbloodshed here.'
"I slipped away then," continued Pierre, "as I thought the landlordwould be coming out to look for this Jacques. If it had not beenfor what he said about the reward offered, and the likelihood thatothers would already have started with the news, I should havewatched for the man and followed him when he started. I don't thinkhe would have carried his message far. As it was, I thought it bestto let you know at once; so that we could slip out of this trap, intime."