CHAPTER III
For nearly a month, the old man haunted the palace, and watched in thegardens for the little Prince until he knew the daily routine of histiny life with his nurses and governesses.
He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him, they were wont to repairto the farthermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a littlepostern gate, she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to whom theQueen had forbidden the privilege of the court.
There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes andplans, unmindful of the royal charge playing neglected among the flowersand shrubbery of the garden.
Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans well laid. He had managedto coax old Brus, the gardener, into letting him have the key to thelittle postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a midnightescapade, hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the partner ofhis adventure, and, what was more to the point with Brus, at the sametime slipping a couple of golden zecchins into the gardener's palm.
Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De Vac a loyal retainerof the house of Plantagenet. Whatever else of mischief De Vac might beup to, Brus was quite sure that in so far as the King was concerned, thekey to the postern gate was as safe in De Vac's hands as though Henryhimself had it.
The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fenceshould, at his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades morebefitting the younger sprigs of gentility, but, then, what concern wasit of his? Did he not have enough to think about to keep the gardensso that his royal master and mistress might find pleasure in the shadedwalks, the well-kept sward, and the gorgeous beds of foliage plants andblooming flowers which he set with such wondrous precision in the formalgarden?
Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by so easily as this;and if the dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to take thismeans of rewarding his poor servant, it ill became such a worm as he toignore the divine favor. So Brus took the gold zecchins and De Vac thekey, and the little prince played happily among the flowers of his royalfather's garden, and all were satisfied; which was as it should havebeen.
That night, De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the far side ofLondon; one who could not possibly know him or recognize the keyas belonging to the palace. Here he had a duplicate made, waitingimpatiently while the old man fashioned it with the crude instruments ofhis time.
From this little shop, De Vac threaded his way through the dirty lanesand alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasionalsmoky lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distancefrom the palace.
A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of theThames in a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of theriver rose and fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneaththe dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce dockrats and their fiercer human antitypes.
Several times De Vac paced the length of this black alley in search ofthe little doorway of the building he sought. At length he came upon it,and, after repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was openedby a slatternly old hag.
"What would ye of a decent woman at such an ungodly hour?" she grumbled."Ah, 'tis ye, my lord?" she added, hastily, as the flickering rays ofthe candle she bore lighted up De Vac's face. "Welcome, my Lord, thricewelcome. The daughter of the devil welcomes her brother."
"Silence, old hag," cried De Vac. "Is it not enough that you leech meof good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantlesof villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needsburden me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue?
"Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gateto perdition? And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I haddelivered here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth andcobwebs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the deadRomans who builded London twelve hundred years ago. Methinks, too, fromthe stink, they must have been Roman swineherd who habited this sty withtheir herds, an' I venture that thou, old sow, hast never touched broomto the place for fear of disturbing the ancient relics of thy kin."
"Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan," cried the woman. "I would rather hearthy money talk than thou, for though it come accursed and tainted fromthy rogue hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voiceas it were fresh from the coffers of the holy church.
"The bundle is ready," she continued, closing the door after De Vac, whohad now entered, "and here be the key; but first let us have a payment.I know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from thesecrecy which you have demanded, an' I dare say there will be some whowould pay well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and the child,thy sister and her son you tell me they be, who you are so anxious tohide away in old Til's garret. So it be well for you, my Lord, to payold Til well and add a few guilders for the peace of her tongue if youwould that your prisoner find peace in old Til's house."
"Fetch me the bundle, hag," replied De Vac, "and you shall have goldagainst a final settlement; more even than we bargained for if all goeswell and thou holdest thy vile tongue."
But the old woman's threats had already caused De Vac a feeling ofuneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree inthe old woman had she known the determination her words had caused inthe mind of the old master of fence.
His venture was far too serious, and the results of exposure toofraught with danger, to permit of his taking any chances with a disloyalfellow-conspirator. True, he had not even hinted at the enormity of theplot in which he was involving the old woman, but, as she had said, hisstern commands for secrecy had told enough to arouse her suspicions, andwith them her curiosity and cupidity. So it was that old Til might wellhave quailed in her tattered sandals had she but even vaguely guessedthe thoughts which passed in De Vac's mind; but the extra gold pieceshe dropped into her withered palm as she delivered the bundle to him,together with the promise of more, quite effectually won her loyalty andher silence for the time being.
Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundlewith his long surcoat, De Vac stepped out into the darkness of the alleyand hastened toward the dock.
Beneath the planks he found a skiff which he had moored there earlierin the evening, and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle.Then, casting off, he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the palacewalls, he moored near to the little postern gate which let into thelower end of the garden.
Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew tothe water's edge, set there by order of the King to add to the beauty ofthe aspect from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern and,unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace.
The next day, he returned the original key to Brus, telling the old manthat he had not used it after all, since mature reflection had convincedhim of the folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whoseyouth was past, and in whose joints the night damp of the Thames mightfind lodgement for rheumatism.
"Ha, Sir Jules," laughed the old gardener, "Virtue and Vice be twinsisters who come running to do the bidding of the same father, Desire.Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one mandesires what another does not, who shall say whether the child of hisdesire be vice or virtue? Or on the other hand if my friend desires hisown wife and if that be virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is notthat likewise virtue, since we desire the same thing? But if to obtainour desire it be necessary to expose our joints to the Thames' fog, thenit were virtue to remain at home."
"Right you sound, old mole," said De Vac, smiling, "would that I mightlearn to reason by your wondrous logic; methinks it might stand me ingood stead before I be much older."
"The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than thesword, I should think," said Brus, returning to his work.
That afternoon, De Vac stood in a window of the armory
looking outupon the beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall twohundred yards away. In the foreground were box-bordered walks, smooth,sleek lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants, while hereand there marble statues of wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling inthe brilliant sunlight, or, half shaded by an overhanging bush, tookon a semblance of life from the riotous play of light and shadow as theleaves above them moved to and fro in the faint breeze. Farther in thedistance, the river wall was hidden by more closely massed bushes, andthe formal, geometric precision of the nearer view was relieved by abackground of vine-colored bowers, and a profusion of small trees andflowering shrubs arranged in studied disorder.
Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and the carved stonebenches of the open garden gave place to rustic seats, and swingssuspended from the branches of fruit trees.
Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the Lady Maud and herlittle charge, Prince Richard; all ignorant of the malicious watcher inthe window behind them.
A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, asRichard ran, childlike, after it, Lady Maud hastened on to the littlepostern gate which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who hadbeen waiting without. Relocking the gate the two strolled arm in arm tothe little bower which was their trysting place.
As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little Prince playedhappily about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern,determined face which peered through the foliage at a little distancefrom the playing boy.
Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterflywhich fate led nearer and nearer to the cold, hard watcher in thebushes. Closer and closer came the little Prince, and in anothermoment, he had burst through the flowering shrubs, and stood facing theimplacable master of fence.
"Your Highness," said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow, "let oldDeVac help you catch the pretty insect."
Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him, and so togetherthey started in pursuit of the butterfly which by now had passed outof sight. De Vac turned their steps toward the little postern gate,but when he would have passed through with the tiny Prince, the latterrebelled.
"Come, My Lord Prince," urged De Vac, "methinks the butterfly did butalight without the wall, we can have it and return within the garden inan instant."
"Go thyself and fetch it," replied the Prince; "the King, my father, hasforbid me stepping without the palace grounds."
"Come," commanded De Vac, more sternly, "no harm can come to you."
But the child hung back and would not go with him so that De Vac wasforced to grasp him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage andalarm from the royal child.
"Unhand me, sirrah," screamed the boy. "How dare you lay hands on aprince of England?"
De Vac clapped his hand over the child's mouth to still his cries,but it was too late. The Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in aninstant, they were rushing toward the postern gate, the officer drawinghis sword as he ran.
When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the outside,and the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate.But, handicapped by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn the keybefore the officer threw himself against the panels and burst out beforethe master of fence, closely followed by the Lady Maud.
De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughlyaffrightened Prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confrontedthe officer.
There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac's intentionswere too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon eachother with grim fury; the brave officer facing the best swordsman thatFrance had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his young prince.
In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws ofchivalry, he did not lower his point until it had first plunged throughthe heart of his brave antagonist. Then, with a bound, he leaped betweenLady Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat into the gardenand give the alarm.
Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing thelady in waiting, his back against the door.
"Mon Dieu, Sir Jules," she cried, "hast thou gone mad?"
"No, My Lady," he answered, "but I had not thought to do the work whichnow lies before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy headand let his patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling? Yourrashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either you orI, My Lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose thyself fordeath."
Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded bythe great lords and nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon deMontfort, Earl of Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heapstill further indignities upon him with the intention of degrading andhumiliating him that he might leave England forever. The King fearedthis mighty kinsman who so boldly advised him against the weak follieswhich were bringing his kingdom to a condition of revolution.
What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, forLeicester had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there camean interruption which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier ina common affliction that touched the hearts of all.
There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, andEleanor, Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streamingdown her pale cheeks.
"Oh, My Lord! My Lord!" she cried, "Richard, our son, has beenassassinated and thrown into the Thames."
In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with thegreatest difficulty that the King finally obtained a coherent statementfrom his queen.
It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace withPrince Richard at the proper time, the Queen had been notified and animmediate search had been instituted--a search which did not end forover twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the hearts of thecourt to stone, for there beside the open postern gate lay the deadbodies of Lady Maud and a certain officer of the Guards, but nowherewas there a sign or trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III ofEngland, and at that time the youngest prince of the realm.
It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it wasthat one of the lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty ofthe episode of the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of theKing's little son became apparent.
An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in England,for on the left breast of the little Prince was a birthmark whichclosely resembled a lily and, when after a year no child was foundbearing such a mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the search wascarried into France, nor was it ever wholly relinquished at any time formore than twenty years.
The first theory, of assassination, was quickly abandoned when it wassubjected to the light of reason, for it was evident that an assassincould have dispatched the little Prince at the same time that he killedthe Lady Maud and her lover, had such been his desire.
The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon deMontfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew hadalways been so marked as to have been commented upon by the members ofthe King's household.
Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort and his king washealed, and although the great nobleman was divested of his authority inGascony, he suffered little further oppression at the hands of his royalmaster.